


The Velveteen City

by coramatus



Category: Gravity Falls, The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coramatus/pseuds/coramatus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mysterious city named Bricksburg suddenly springs into existence near Gravity Falls, both sets of Pines twins are immediately on the case. Meanwhile, Bricksburg resident Emmet Brickowski wakes up to find that something is terribly off about the world, but can't quite put any one of his ten fingers on it…</p><p>Takes place post-film, post-S2E15.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a new journal entry is started.

_**Journal #3** _  
_Bricksburg, Oregon_  
_(Where did it come from??)_  
_Status: UNRESOLVED_

Bricksburg, Oregon does not exist.

It never has and it never will.

Except it does.

12.6 miles from Gravity Falls, there is a great, sprawling city that has stood for over a hundred years in central Oregon.

It was not there yesterday.

This case is a more complex one than usual. There are many moving parts that still haven't resolved themselves and require more investigation. Hopefully, we'll be able to look into it in the coming days, thanks to the help we've obtained from some of the local residents. (For an eldritch city, people there are really friendly. And not in a creepy way either!)

I'll try my best to document everything, including sharing accounts of the people involved. The many points of view may help shed some light on the nature of this situation. Particularly on just what it was all for. Because this is a lot of trouble to go through just to mess with everyone. Or maybe it isn't, who knows?

Looking back, all of this started was on what seemed like a perfectly average morning. Until Mabel turned on the radio…


	2. KOCT 101.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dipper and Mabel Pines wake up to find something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mega huge thanks to Bearat and Najata for their help in beta reading this chapter! You guys are the best!

Deep in the woods of Oregon, Dipper Pines softly snored on his bed, buried somewhere underneath a pile of books, paper, and chewed-up pens. It'd been awhile since he had gotten any restful sleep and his twelve-year-old body was taking him to task for staying up late again. But for him, it was worth spending those twilight hours digging into the mysteries of his summer residence: a very strange town called Gravity Falls. 

As he shifted in his slumber, a corner of old, dusty paper tickled the end of his nose. A tiny squeak rang through the attic, papers briefly fluttering into the air as Dipper sneezed himself back into consciousness. With that rude awakening, the curly-haired boy sat up with a groan while his research materials slid off him in a great cascade. Groggily rubbing at his nose, his bleary eyes took in his surroundings: a dingy space that had been converted into a two person bedroom. Sunlight streamed in through a triangular window, illuminating a floor covered in dirty clothes and craft supplies among other things. 

Upon spotting the craft materials, Dipper glanced over at the room's other bed, checking for his twin sister, Mabel. The exuberant, bouncy girl wasn't there, the rumpled sheets of her unmade bed a sign that she must have gotten up only recently. She was likely downstairs in the bathroom, getting ready for the day. Mabel was always the morning person out of the two of them. 

Dipper took a moment to consider getting up too, but incongruous specks of color on Mabel's bed caught his attention. Rubbing his eyes, he found bits of her latest craft project strewn about her bedspread: Lego blocks of all shapes, sizes, and colors, littering the surface like pointy, plastic sprinkles. He squinted at them, slowly coming to a realization. 

Had… Mabel _slept_ on the Legos? 

…She probably had. 

He sighed. 

Mabel had come across a few old tubs of forgotten Lego pieces in the storage area and was now engulfed in a building frenzy. He kept finding little mismatched Lego models of creatures they'd encountered all over the Shack. The more recent ones even sported a coat of paint. Leave it to her to take a simple project to the next level. 

At least it was more constructive than mooning over boys. That much was a relief. He was afraid he'd be stuck hearing about his sister's crushes all summer. Which she did, but not all the time like he'd dreaded. Come to think of it, she'd changed a lot since summer started. As did he. 

Dipper thought back to the beginning, wondering if he could have predicted his life would be turned upside down to the degree it was now. 

Two months ago, at the start of their summer break, their parents figured the two could do with some "fresh air" and shipped them off to stay with their great-uncle Stan in his ramshackle cabin that doubled as a tourist trap, named the Mystery Shack. 

The two quickly found themselves put to work at said tourist trap. Often times, handling the overpriced gift shop as curiosity seekers flocked to the exhibits. There was something to be said about the quality of the customers as they gawked at the attractions, most of which were hastily thrown together taxidermic disasters or mundane things given a shinier coat of paint. Most people seemed to take it at face value and were easily dazzled by the spin Grunkle Stan put on them for added glamour. 

Dipper had resigned himself to a dull summer, forced to work a boring job, and having to endure whatever insanity his family had to offer ...until he came upon something peculiar. 

A journal. 

Emblazoned with a golden six-fingered hand and the number three in giant script. Secreted away in an underground compartment and left for who knows how many years until he stumbled upon the mechanism that opened it. 

Dipper was immediately entranced. 

The journal challenged his very understanding of the world. Its many pages revealed the fantastic and the mysterious and the dangerous. It showed the impossible, illuminated hidden truths and offered protection from harm. It was an amazing tome and it became one of Dipper's greatest treasures. 

To no one's surprise, Dipper and Mabel both immediately got tangled up in the mysteries that the journal offered. Together they faced gnomes, ghosts, monsters, mad child psychics, zombies, and creatures of all types. Spells were cast, conspiracies were uncovered, curses were broken, and government agents were thwarted. The twins’ fated boring summer bloomed into quite an eventful one. 

But one mystery plagued Dipper: _Who_ wrote the journal? 

The answer came only a few weeks ago, from the most unexpected source. It took an arrest and government takeover of the Shack for one of Grunkle Stan's deepest secrets to get blown wide open. Deep underneath the building was a secret lab containing an inter-dimensional portal. A portal he'd secretly spent the past thirty years trying to force open. No one knew its purpose, only knowing that opening the portal could cause global catastrophe. Needless to say, the portal ultimately opened (which was another doozy of a story on its own). 

Disaster did not walk out of it. 

Grunkle Stan's long-lost twin brother did. 

Stanford Pines. 

Author of the journal. 

It was a long and sordid tale of how things came to be, but it all ended in Stanford Pines getting knocked into the portal thirty years before by Stanley Pines, who then desperately sought a way to bring his brother back. The intervening thirty years saw Stanley taking on Stanford's identity and using his brother's home as a tourist destination. 

Things were still tense between the two, often cold silence reigning if they were in the same room. Fortunately, they seemed to at least be keeping it civil around Dipper and Mabel. It was strange having to adjust to another person living with them, but the man made it easier for everyone by generally keeping to himself in his underground lab. Not that it kept him from making Dipper's dreams come true by having the occasional adventure together. It never ceased to blow the boy's mind that his idol was finally there with him, sharing his secrets and knowledge on the strange town they were in. He was practically chomping at the bit to learn more from the enigmatic man. 

But for now, it was still early and he was still tired. With nothing particularly out of order, Dipper flopped onto his back, letting his notes settle over him again. He felt strangely comfortable this way, hidden under faded ink and knowledge. He was about to drift off when faint music caught his attention. Based on the fast, upbeat tempo, it was a pop song. Mabel had probably put on some music to brush her teeth to. (He often did the same, but more to the tune of Swedish pop bands of the 1980's.) Dipper was set on ignoring it until the noticeable uptick to the music's volume. He would have brushed it off as Mabel opening the bathroom door, but instead it steadily grew in sound and clarity. Warily, he sat up on his elbows, trying to trace the source of the music. He could tell it was getting closer, but it wasn't until he heard the accompanying thumps of feet running up the stairs that he put it together. 

He barely had time to brace himself when the door was violently slammed open by Mabel, armed with a massive boombox. Thankfully, Dipper's dignity was spared because his scream was drowned out by the blaring music flooding the attic space. 

"EVERYTHING IS AWESOOOME!" 

And there was Mabel, belting out the lyrics at the top of her lungs like a desperate contestant in a singing competition. 

"EVERYTHING IS COOL WHEN YOU'RE PART OF A TEAM!" 

Fortunately, the girl was hardly tone deaf, matching the song's frenetic melody with equal exuberance. She made for quite the spectacle, especially with how she was still dressed in her long, purple pajamas, emblazoned with an inexplicable floppy disk on the front. Smiling from ear to ear, the curly-haired brunette had hefted the massive stereo onto her shoulder and was dancing along to the tune, steps mostly random but with some rhythm to her movements. Much to the consternation of her brother. 

"Mabel, turn it down!" Dipper shouted, covering his ears to no avail. 

All he accomplished was catching his sister's attention, whose manic grin widened even further at the sight of her brother still in bed. Dipper paled and he scrambled further up the bed as she began charging at him. Just a few feet before reaching her brother's bed, she leapt onto its surface and began bouncing on the mattress, her long hair trailing behind. 

"EVERYTHING IS AWESOOOOOOOME!" 

With every jump, Dipper was sent flailing into the air, his papers flying everywhere. 

"MABEL!!" 

"WHEN WE'RE LIVING OUR DREEEAAAAAM!" 

"MABEL, REALLY?!" Dipper screamed, his twin sister's bouncing continuing to send him and his things into a tumbled mess. 

"YES, REALLY!!" Mabel yelled in return, pumping her fist into the air. 

To Dipper's slight relief, Mabel did jump off the bed, landing lightly on both feet despite the massive device she carried. His distress only returned in greater force when Mabel spun around to plonk her oversized boombox right before him, barely missing Dipper's foot. 

"Check it out, Dipper!" she shouted over the song, now featuring the most bizarre rap section he'd ever heard. ('Dogs with fleas'? 'Allergies'?? What???) Mabel leaned on top of the stereo, pointing enthusiastically to it, the glint of her braces only highlighting the broad grin she sported, "It's a new radio station! And it's not country! I thought we'd never find one!" 

During their very first week in the backwater town, the two attempted to comb through all the airwaves this part of Oregon had to offer, seeing if they could find any stations that weren't a mess of different country sub-genres. 

They failed. 

Mabel didn't lose hope though and every so often would scroll through the radio channels when the contents of the Mystery Shack failed to entertain her. 

Dipper wasn't impressed. 

"OK that's great! Now can you just-!" He reached over and viciously twisted the volume knob and the din faded to mere murmur. He sighed in relief, "There we go." 

Mabel pouted at him. 

"Aww, not that low!" she whined, reaching over to turn it back up. Dipper smacked her hand away. 

"Mabel, you almost blew out my eardrums!" he scowled, "Yes, that low!" 

It turned out not to matter, as the song ended in a flourish and the radio host's muted voice came back on air. 

' _Aaaand that was 'Everything is Awesome', everyone's favorite hit single from those lovely ladies Tegan and Sara and featuring the boys of the Lonely Island!_ ' 

"Huh! I don't think I've heard of them before!" Mabel commented. 

Dipper didn't respond, simply yawning and sliding out of bed, figuring he might as well start his day too. If Mabel's wake-up call couldn't do it, then nothing would. He had a long day of mystery solving to get to after all. 

Which would be much harder if the ringing in his ears didn't stop. He grumpily picked at their insides. 

"Did you really have to do that?" he groused at his sister. She turned to pout at him as she carried the stereo back to her side of the room. 

"New. Music. Dipper," Mabel argued, punctuating each word with greater intensity, " _New! **Music!**_ " 

"Look, I'm all about new music too," Dipper replied sourly. He pointed to his ears, "Except if it turns me deaf!" 

"Pfft…" Mabel waved him off, "We're young, you'll be fine!" 

"If I suffer from early hearing loss, I’ll know just who to blame." 

"Genetics!" 

"That's right, gen- Mabel!" 

"I love you too!" she grinned, grabbing a clean sweater and skirt before darting off to change. 

Grumbling, Dipper went off to do his morning routine. By the time he came back upstairs, Mabel was fully dressed in a warm blue skirt, a light purple headband and a pink sweater bearing a cutesy fairy cat princess holding a magic wand. She was seated on her bed, still covered in little, plastic blocks, putting together some new Lego construction. She had a look of intense concentration, tongue sticking out as she examined the various pieces, occasionally making a thoughtful noise. 

Dipper left her to it as he gave his everyday vest a quick sniff. It didn't smell too bad, so he slipped it on, along with his cap and shoes. He picked up the journal from his bedside and stuck it in his vest, ready for whatever adventure they might encounter that day. 

Behind them, the radio had been turned up again, this time to a tolerable level. It made for good background noise as the two did their thing. 

' _You're listening to KOCT 101.1 Bricksburg! Oregon's hottest new music station!_ ' 

As the radio switched from its regular programming to commercials, something about the station ID caught Dipper's attention and he searched his memory. He could have sworn that frequency was nothing but static. Uncertainly, he turned to his sister. 

"Hey, Mabel, did you catch where that station's based?" he asked. 

Mabel glanced up from her blocks and drew herself up into a theatrical thinking pose, puzzling it over, "Mmm… Something 'Burg', I think? I wanna say it started with a 'B'…" 

"Bricksburg?" Dipper hesitantly supplied. Mabel snapped her fingers with realization, face lighting up in a smile. 

"Yeah! That's it!" She paused and tilted her head. "Why?" 

"I don't think I've ever heard of a Bricksburg, Oregon before. Have you?" 

"I dunno," Mabel shrugged. "Oregon's a big state. There's probably plenty of places we never heard of." 

Dipper didn't immediately answer. Instead, he headed for a large pile of books sitting in a corner of the attic. Shifting through the volumes with intent, he clearly knew what he was looking for. It took a moment for him to pull out the right volume and flipped to the back pages. 

"While that's true," he said, turning a few more pages. "I've looked up a bunch of other places we could go to other than Gravity Falls and I don't think that one came up." 

Mabel blinked at him. "Why were you looking _that_ up?"

"Oh you know, just looking for a place we could run to in case Grunkle Stan turned out to be some axe-wielding maniac," Dipper answered lightly, still lost in thought. 

Mabel considered this, began to say something, but decided not to and simply settled for a glib comment, "Jeez, way to be completely paranoid, bro bro." 

If Dipper heard her, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he straightened up upon finally finding what he was looking for and turned to Mabel, holding the book open for her to see. 

"Look," Dipper tapped at a section labeled 'B'. "This atlas lists all the names of places in the state in alphabetical order. I don't see a Bricksburg between Brickerville and Bridal Veil. Do you?" 

"THERE'S A PLACE CALLED BRIDAL VEIL??" Mabel squealed, stars in her eyes as she tossed aside her block construction and snatched the book from him to confirm that there was indeed a place named Bridal Veil, Oregon. If she was still bothered by her brother's paranoia, all thoughts of that had been thrown out the window. 

"Mabel, focus," Dipper said, snapping his fingers at her face, unsurprised by her reaction. 

"C'mon, you can't _not_ think that's cool," she said, looking up at him with a grin. Still, she quickly went through the index and passed the tome back to her brother, shrugging. "OK, yeah, so Bricksburg isn’t there. Maybe it's just 'cause this thing's out of date." 

Dipper flipped to the atlas's front and scanned through its printing information. "Can't be. This was made last year," he said, pointing to the date. Closing the book with a frown, he wondered aloud, "What kind of place has a radio station, but not a place on any map?" 

"Veeeery strange," Mabel conceded with narrowed eyes. At this, she only got more excited and elbowed Dipper's side eagerly, "Guess we got a new mystery, huh? The Mystery of the Phantom Radio Station!" 

Dipper snorted out a laugh, "It can't be that much of a mystery. It could just be some weird indie station." 

"Dipper, since when does an indie station play _anything_ that's popular? Wouldn't that be like, the exact _opposite_ of indie?" Mabel asked skeptically. 

"Or I dunno, maybe Grunkle Ford did something so now we're getting stations from random places." Dipper shrugged helplessly. He frowned. "I'd ask. Except he's probably too busy. And I don't want to get on his nerves…" he trailed off nervously. "Maybe Grunkle Stan knows something about it. He's been here the longest." 

"TO DOWNSTAIRS!!" Mabel declared, darting out the door and dashing down the stairs. 

"Hey! Wait!" Dipper shouted, chasing after her. 

The two thundered down the staircase, jumping the last few steps with an excited laugh as they got caught up in the moment. Upon landing, they heard the gruff voices of two men arguing in the kitchen. The twins glanced at each other, curiosity piqued at the presence of one of those voices, and ran up to see what was going on. 

"G'morning Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford," Dipper greeted as he and Mabel arrived. 

"Not now, kids!" the aging man grunted. His attention was entirely focused on a battered old radio which he kept banging on the top of. It let out a few warbling notes as its abuse continued. "There's something wrong with this thing! These stations are all messed up!" To punctuate this, he gave the machine a more forceful hit, which only succeeded in turning it off. He growled indignantly. 

Stanley Pines, or just Stan, was dressed in his normal off hours outfit of his undershirt, boxers, and fez. Scruffy and square-jawed in every sense of the word, the man had a pronounced gut and sagging skin, but was otherwise in decent shape with a full head of graying hair. He adjusted his glasses on his bulbous nose to lean in and glare at the machine, willing it to turn back on through sheer orneriness. When it failed to, he groaned in frustration and turned to the only other culprit he could point to. 

"Ford! You been messing around with this thing?" he gruffly demanded. 

On his part, Stanford Pines, otherwise just Ford, scoffed at his brother. 

"I haven't touched it! Why would I need to when I have an actual radio tower?" 

"Exactly! Why would you?!" 

Ford sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Like his brother, he too had graying hair and sported glasses. Unlike his brother, Ford cut a more imposing figure, dressed in a red turtleneck, tan trenchcoat, brown pants, and heavyset boots. He was quite the picture of the adventuring professor, six-fingered hands only adding to the natural air of intrigue that surrounded him. But while Stan showed signs of living a difficult life, Ford bore signs of tremendous hardship. His eyes were flinty, often darkened with suspicion. Even his movements were cautious, taking light steps and displaying an alertness that a soldier would respect. And then that image would break when his eccentricities shone through, resulting in him doing something strange, like set his face on fire to save time on shaving. 

At that moment, one of Stan's blows to the radio managed to turn the machine back on. Another round of 'Everything is Awesome' battered everyone's eardrums, aside from Mabel, who only cheered and broke out dancing again, singing along like no one's business. 

"Ugh, you kids call this music?" Stan griped, unimpressed. He picked at his ear in aggravation, scowl more pronounced than usual. "This is worse than what was already on!" 

Mabel made a rude noise. "Uh, I think you mean it's a million times better!" 

Stan glared at her. "Alright, I'm done with this," he grunted, changing the channel. 

"Grunkle Staaaaan~!" Mabel wailed. 

As the two argued over the radio, Dipper turned to Ford curiously. "Wait, so Grunkle Ford, you didn't boost the radio signal somehow?" 

The older man turned to Dipper with a fond look. With a gentler tone than he'd used with his brother, he asked, "Again, no. Why would I?" 

"I dunno," the boy admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed. "But you're the only person I know who probably could." 

Ford put a reassuring hand on Dipper's shoulder, smiling. "While that is true, the only time I would need to do so is if I were looking for something." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyes narrowing, "Although now that I think about it, I _was_ getting some odd readings of the vicinity. I would have looked into it, but it turns out I forgot to eat for two days straight. So I came up here to get some food before I collapsed from starvation." 

He said the last part in a very matter-of-fact statement, like he were simply commenting on the weather. Dipper could relate. 

"Man, I know _that_ feeling," he chuckled. 

Ford flashed him another smile before he gestured to Stan, "Next thing I know, I come up to find Stan beating his radio." 

"It's not beating, it's just some percussive maintenance," Stan cut in, his argument with Mabel over. She gave him a puffed up pout but he ignored her. He grunted as he gave the device another hit for emphasis. "Darn thing keeps getting signals from some place called 'Bricksburg'," he snorted derisively. "Never heard'a it." 

"Never heard of Bricksburg?" a nasally voice cut in, incredulous. "Haha, where've you been these last hundred years, Mr. Pines?" 

As one, the four looked up to find large man in a green question mark shirt appearing at the doorway, peeking in to find the assembled Pines family at the kitchen table. 

"Hey, dudes!" 

It was Soos, the Mystery Shack's handyman and close friend to the younger twins. A genial fellow, he had been in Stan's employ for number of years and often accompanied Dipper and Mabel on their adventures. Sometimes keeping them out of trouble, but mostly facilitating the mayhem. While there were times he could be described as the definition of a manchild, at others, he proved himself to be quite insightful. 

Times like now. 

" _Soos?_ " Stan exclaimed in disbelief, " _You_ know about this place?" 

"Uh, duh," Soos chuckled with a shrug. "It's only the biggest city in this state!" 

"City?" Dipper repeated uncertainly, confusion evident. He'd assumed that Bricksburg was just some small town several counties over perhaps. But a _city?_

On top of that, not only did Stan admit to having no idea about this place, but also Ford hadn't done anything to make the radios more sensitive to distant frequencies. Then there were the songs neither he nor Mabel had ever heard before, despite her familiarity with the pop charts. And now Soos came in sounding perfectly familiar with the place. 

Something just wasn't adding up. And then there was the other detail that stood out. 

"Wait, I thought Portland's the biggest," Dipper pointed out. But Soos shook his head with a laugh. 

"Nah, Bricksburg's got it beat by like, a lot," he said. He then paused, rubbing at his scruffy facial hair, before adding on, "Like, a lot a lot." 

Dipper gave him a weird look. That couldn't be right. "Since when?" 

"Since always…?" Soos answered slowly, looking puzzled. It was starting to dawn on him that no one else seemed to be on the same page as him. "Wait, what's going on? Why are you guys acting like you've never heard'a the city before?" 

The four Pines stared at him. They glanced at each other in confusion. 

"'Cause we never did!" Mabel exclaimed. "We just woke up and there were a ton of new radio stations saying they're from this Bricksburg place!" 

"And Grunkle Ford said he didn't do anything to the radio signals," Dipper interjected. "And Grunkle Stan's been in Oregon a long time, so he ought to know about it, right?" 

"I'd think I'd remember if there were some city that big," Stan said. He scowled, looking thoughtful, "Then again, I've been remembering some things funny… Like, whatever happened to those Soviet guys? They were that weird band, right?" 

Ford looked like he wanted to correct his brother, but held his tongue. Instead, he asked, "Mr. Ramirez, no one here has ever heard of this place. How did you find out about it?" 

"Uh… Find out-?" Soos began, his confusion deepening into worry. He nervously scratched the back of his thick neck, thinking carefully. "Dude, it's been there for like over a hundred years." 

Stunned expressions met him. 

"Say whaaaat??" Mabel exclaimed, her jaw dropping. 

"OK, really guys, I'm getting kinda freaked out here," Soos's wide eyes darted back and forth, sweat starting to form on his brow. He clutched his head as his voice gradually became more hysterical, "Am I hallucinating? Did I imagine an entire city into existence??" 

Mabel gasped, her eyes wide and shining. "Oh my gosh, maybe you did! Soos! That's amazing!" she shouted. "Can you uh… let's see. Ooh! Imagine up a giant chocolate fountain with marshmallows, and cupcakes, and those rice crispy things!" 

Soos's paranoia instantly was replaced by contemplation. "Hmm… Lemme give this a shot," he said, widening his stance and holding his arms out, palms facing forwards. Soos closed his eyes and began to concentrate. His brow furrowed. Sweat started beading again. He began to make straining sounds as he struggled against whatever bounds he'd imagined. 

"C'mon… _Chocolate fountain…!_ " he squeezed out. His face began to turn a funny shade of red, his cheeks puffed up with air. He seemed to be straining his every muscle and he looked about fit to burst. 

"OK, OK, that's enough of that," Ford cut in quickly. "We don't need you popping a hernia from this." He patted Soos's shoulder to snap him out of it and the buck-toothed man deflated with a whoosh. He held himself up against his knees and panted, looking apologetic. 

"Sorry, Hambone," he said to Mabel. "Don't think I can do chocolate fountains…" 

Mabel bounded over and gave him a hug, "That's OK! Thanks for trying, Soos!" 

"Anytime, Mabel!" he laughed, hugging her back. 

Ford cleared his throat. "Not to interrupt anything, but can you tell me, where is this 'Bricksburg' located?" He asked, pulling out his journal and began taking notes. "How long does it take to get there?" 

"Oh, you just drive north for like a half hour," Soos answered easily. "Pretty hard to miss all the signs pointing to it." 

This was met with silence. 

"OK, that city is _definitely_ not supposed to be there," Dipper said flatly. 

"But if it did, then how come I remember it so great?" Soos wondered. He looked lost and confused about the whole situation, brows knit together as he wracked his mind for what he thought he knew. "I've been there a whole bunch of times and I know my way around. Or do I?" Soos thought on it and turned to Stan as he said, "I mean, I imagine you'd know it pretty good too, Mr. Pines." 

"No, I don't, Soos," Stan grunted blandly. 

The large man didn't respond to Stan. For he had a slow look of realization of one beginning to acknowledge a long ignored discrepancy. "Except… I don't remember ever talking about it with you!" he exclaimed to Stan. He then turned to Dipper and Mabel, "Or you kids either," he then spun to face Ford, "Or him!" Soos gasped loudly and pawed at his face, "I've stumbled across a real life plot hole!" 

At this, Ford looked up at Soos sharply. "Never, you say?" When he got confirmation, Ford hummed in thought, "Very strange…" 

"Didja figure it out Grunkle Ford?" Mabel asked, beating Dipper to the punch. He might have been annoyed about it he wasn't so keen on the man's reply. 

Ford did not answer right away. But when he did, his words seemed to hold some more weight to it. 

"I can think of a few possibilities," he began carefully. "First possibility: our universe spontaneously splintered and merged with a parallel reality where this city exists. It can happen naturally, but it's usually more noticeable. And if that were the case, there's that little issue Soos mentioned. I can't imagine our alternate selves repeatedly glossing over an entire city in conversation for years on end. 

"Second possibility: we are still in our native reality and the city only just appeared. The timestream then altered itself to compensate for its presence or the entire world has had its memories altered to remember it. Of course, that sounds like too much effort for what? A predatory, transdimensional genius loci? A bad cosmic joke? If that's the case, then why weren't we affected?" 

"So many questions…" Ford sighed. But he looked determined and pounded a fist into his palm decisively, "We'll have to look into this if we're going to figure this out." 

"It IS a new mystery!!" Mabel declared excitedly. 

"Aw great, another mystery," Stan growled in disgust, rolling his eyes, "Don't you kids ever get sick of solving mysteries?" 

The twins blankly stared at him. 

"Nope." 

"Never." 

"Typical," Stan snorted. 

"Hey Grunkle Ford, we should totally go investigate together!" Dipper suggested hopefully, his grin wide. 

Ford smiled at Dipper's forwardness and thought carefully, "Well I…" 

Grunkle Stan had other ideas. 

"No, no no no. _No!_ " he said forcefully, even making a point of standing up. He jabbed a finger at Dipper, "I am not letting you kids go anywhere near some crazy, magically appearing city just because it's there. I might not know a lot about this supernatural stuff, but things like that are just bad news!" 

"But Grunkle Stan!" Dipper said plaintively. 

Stan cut him off right there, "No buts, kid! It's for your own good." 

In a moment of very convenient timing, several large vehicles drove into to the Shack's parking lot, disgorging large groups of tourists eagerly chatting away. 

Stan practically smooshed his face into the window to take in the scene, a squeaking gasp escaping his lips. When he spun around, he clasped his hands together in excitement, his eyes sparkling with disturbing glee. "Besides, we got customers!" he cried, "So many customers!" 

With that, Stan took off with surprising speed for his age, running down the hall to change clothes and open the Shack for the now hectic-looking day, shouting back to the kitchen, "Get ready, Soos! We got a long day ahead of us!" 

"Yes, Mr. Pines, sir!" Soos saluted and charged after the older man. 

"That means you too, kids!" came a more distant shout. 

The three of them stared at the doorway Stan left from, uncertain how to respond. Faint sounds of things crashing to the floor could be heard. Ford broke the silence with a sigh. 

"As much as I hate to admit it, Stanley's right," he said, his expression faintly sour, as if it pained him to say the words. "This is an entire city we're dealing with. We have no idea what the situation in there is like. There's no telling what kind of danger is waiting for us." He turned to the twins, looking determined, "I'm going to go down to my lab. I'll see what I can find out about this 'Bricksburg' from here. In the meantime, you'd better go help my brother." 

A loud crash sounded through the building, punctuated by a pained shout of 'HOT BELGIAN WAFFLES!' 

Ford sighed again, turning his attention to the contents of the fridge. 

"He may need it." 


	3. Step One: Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emmet Brickowski has a bad morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO DAT FINALE HUH?
> 
> Huge thank you goes to [LitheFider](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LitheFider) for their help in beta reading this! They are awesome and you should read their stories too!

_BREEP! BREEP! BREEP!_

In a modest city apartment, sleepy eyes blinked open at the shriek of an alarm. It took a moment for their owner to comprehend what was happening, but once they did, their face broke out into a wide grin. 

Tossing his sheet aside, Emmet Brickowski tapped off the alarm and eagerly hopped out of bed. He yawned, stretching happily at a good night's rest and rubbing away the last of his sleepiness. 

"Morning!" the man cheerfully said to himself. "Morning, morning, it's the morning!" 

Mornings were his favorite time of day. It meant that he had a full day's worth of fun ahead, whether it was going to work or being with his friends or having some crazy adventure. Sometimes all three things would happen right in the same day! He could never be sure what would happen and he loved looking forward to it. 

But first, he had his morning routine. 

"Step one!" Emmet announced "Breathe!" 

He took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with air. He held it for a beat before exhaling back out in a puff. 

"OK, easy part, done!" Emmet noted with a grin. "Now, step two! Stretching!" 

From there, he moved to a cleared space where he raised his arms as high as they could go before bending over to touch his feet. He held that position for a few seconds, before straightening up to do his next set. 

His current morning routine was a modified version of his old one, which came from a guide that he had once obsessively followed to a T. Thankfully, he no longer needed that old pamphlet since he'd found better purpose in his life. But he liked some of the habits it had instilled. So he shuffled around a few steps, modified others, and tossed some out entirely to better fit his needs. 

While he missed doing it, loudly greeting the day was dropped after his neighbors politely but firmly asked him to stop so they could get more sleep in. It was the least he could do for them. 

Once Emmet came to the end of his set, he found himself panting from exertion. Today's round of stretches felt much more satisfying than usual! Normally his body could only go so far before he just couldn't move anymore. This time, he felt like he was actually making some progress. He actually went past his perceived limits and it felt like something in him was responding. Feeling more awake already, he decided to move on with his routine. 

"Step three: Shower," he hummed, making his way to the bathroom. 

He flipped on the lights and glanced to the side. 

Without warning, the next few seconds went by in a such frantic blur that he was left on the ground, heart hammering against in his chest as he desperately gasped for air. 

_Something was in the bathroom with him._

He shook like a leaf, every part of him poised to fight or flight with his brain struggling to keep up. There had been a panicked scramble, a sense of falling, then dull pain from his back slamming into the glass shower door. He vaguely recalled letting loose a strangled scream of sheer terror. 

_Something was_ still _in the bathroom with him._

He didn't want to look up, he was too afraid, too scared senseless to want to face whatever it was. He hadn't even gotten a clear look at the thing, only an impression of brown and blue before he went down. 

He didn't _want_ to know. 

'Oh gosh, my morning routine is never going to get done like this,' Emmet thought with an edge of hysteria. 

But that crazy thought was enough to get him to act. 

A spark of determination steeled him for what needed to be done. 

He wasn't about to let some _thing_ get the better of him. 

Swallowing nervously, he slowly and carefully dragged his line of sight from the cool floor tiles up to the pipes, then up the sink column to the sink itself, above which rested the offending silvery metallic plane that had- 

Wait a minute- 

Emmet blinked, brow furrowing in confusion as he crawled over, standing up on his knees to peek over the sink's edge at… 

The mirror. 

Emmet's disbelieving snort morphed into manic giggling. 

He'd been scared by his own reflection! 

Relief flooded through him and Emmet sat back on his legs, taking in a deep breath as his frenzied laughter subsided. He ran his fingers through his hair, pensively tugging at his scalp as he wondered how on earth he could have scared himself so bad. He didn't think he looked _that_ awful. 

Fear faded to confusion, worry soon following suit. 

What triggered all that? 

He thought back to the moment before fear seized him. 

The memory puzzled him. 

For that split second, he could have _sworn_ he'd seen an alien creature. 

With his heart rate steadily returning to normal, Emmet shakily stood up and dusted himself off. Looking down at body, he realized the brown and blue thing was just him in his pajamas. His confusion deepened. 

He thought he'd be able to recognize _himself_ of all things. 

Sighing, Emmet turned on the faucet to splash his face with cold water, hoping that would wash out the jitters left by his fading adrenaline rush. It didn't calm him down, but it did leave him feeling more grounded. He figured that would have to do for now as he dried his face with a towel. 

As he wiped the remaining water from his hands, Emmet kept his gaze lowered. He took his time, going over areas he knew he'd already dried, but still did so anyways to be thorough. Yet, even when he was sure he was done, he wrung the towel nervously, biting his lip, stalling. His brow furrowed, unsure of why he was lingering when the realization struck him. 

He didn't want to face his reflection. 

He could feel the stirrings of panic building again at the thought, like something deep within him was coiling itself up, choking him from the inside to keep him from facing his own terrible visage. 

Except that was dumb. 

Emmet shook his head furiously, frustration building. 

With closed eyes, he took a deep breath as he squared his shoulders, mustering up his best serious face. 

He could do this. 

With that he opened his eyes to stare his reflection down. 

He lasted one second before he burst out laughing at his own silly scrunched up face. 

The strange coiled thing that had taken hold inside him loosened its grip. He felt himself calm enough to lean in and give himself a once-over. 

As far as he could tell, everything looked fine. 

His brown hair was on the messy side, which would be rectified with that shower he'd been about to take. Warm brown skin seemed paler than normal, but after somehow scaring himself, that was understandable. He leaned in, pulling down a lid to examine his dark brown eyes. The whites were slightly bloodshot from just waking up and pupils which dilated just fine when he flicked the light switch. He stuck out a healthy pink tongue, examined teeth that that needed a good brushing, and checked his breath (ew). 

Emmet leaned back with a frown. 

He looked fine. 

He felt fine. 

He knew everything was as it should be. 

But his frown stayed. 

The knot of anxiety in his chest tightened. 

Something wasn't right. 

Everything was wrong. 

Everything was wrong and it was somehow still fine. 

"Oh my gosh, what is happening?" he groaned. 

Emmet pressed his forehead against the glass of the mirror, willing the coolness of it to ease his agitated mind. 

How was everything OK and not OK at the same time? 

Why? 

Glancing at his hands, he curled his fingers absently. Something about the motion felt off to him. Like, it shouldn't have been possible. But the more he tried to examine the feeling, the more it slipped away like smoke, dissipating into the air like it never existed. 

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Emmet shrugged off the strange feelings as best he could and carried on with his morning routine. He had the whole rest of the day to look forward to after all. But his initial excitement was dampened considerably. 

"Maybe I'll feel better after this shower," he muttered to himself as he pulled off his sleepwear. 

He showered, brushed his teeth and hair and dressed in a fresh set of clothes with little incident. He did his best to ignore the niggling worry in the back of his mind. As he pulled on a blue flannel shirt over his dark orange t-shirt his cellphone buzzed from its place on the nightstand, drawing him from his thoughts. Rolling up his sleeves, he made his way over to see who was calling. A quick glance at the screen’s caller ID made him forget his troubles and he quickly hurried to gleefully answer the call. 

"Lucy! Good morning!" Emmet exclaimed into the speaker with a breathless grin. His relief at hearing a familiar voice was palpable and the other end laughed at how he sounded. 

Lucy! Just the person he wanted to hear from! 

"Hey Emmet!" a feminine voice greeted him. "You sound awfully excited." 

"Because I am!" Emmet laughed, "I get to talk to you!" 

Lucy's returning laugh only broadened his smile, chasing away the gloom that had been haunting him since the incident in the bathroom. 

"Aw, babe, you're the sweetest," she replied, the warmth in her voice easily heard through the phone. It made Emmet's heart do happy little flips. 

"Heh, I try," he sheepishly said. "So what's up?" 

"Just seeing if you're ready yet," Lucy replied. 

" 'Ready' ?" Emmet repeated with uncertainty. 

"Yeah, 'ready'," she teased. "Need a reminder, babe?" 

"Yes, please!" "Bruce's trip?" she tried. "The weird tourist trap hunt? Ring any bells?" 

He hummed in thought, trying to recall any plans he might have made. A few came to mind, but most had yet to come. He did vaguely remember something about planning a group trip a while back. One where he'd tossed out a suggestion to seek and visit silly tourist traps, because as ridiculous as they were, he did sincerely enjoy them. He didn't think anyone listened to him until Bruce admitted he did have a soft spot for ‘touristy’ gimmicks. The two of them talked and came up with a plan that steadily expanded to include the others and oh my gosh he finally remembered- 

"Wait, that's today?!" Emmet cried in dismay. He groaned at himself, "Oh man! I totally forgot! How'd I forget that?!" 

He probably would have felt terrible about it if Lucy hadn't laughed and told him to relax. 

"Don't worry about it. That's why I asked," she reassured him. "Just make sure you have some money on you and you're all set." 

Emmet sighed, pulling out his wallet and double-checking its contents. 

"Yeah, I guess you're right." 

There was a pause before Lucy answered back. 

"You OK?" she asked, voice tinged with concern. "You sound a little off." 

"I _feel_ a little off," he confessed, "It's been a bad morning." 

Lucy made a noise of sympathy, "Aw, that sucks. Wanna talk about it once I get to your place?" 

"Yeah, that'd be awesome," Emmet told her, hoping she could hear his smile over the phone. 

"Cool. Then I'll see you in ten, babe. I love you!" 

"Love you!" 

Emmet tapped the End Call button and flopped backwards onto his bed with a happy, enamored sigh. 

Lucy was the best thing to ever happen in his life. 

They'd been dating for a while now, ever since the adventure that brought them together. She saved his life a few times and he saved her life a few times in return. From the very moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was special. He'd seen what she was capable of and she never failed to astound him. The simple fact that she actually returned his feelings just made him cherish her all the more. 

Gosh, he loved her so much. 

Emmet might have spent the whole day fawning over Lucy if he didn't have the trip to consider. But he did allow himself a few minutes to do so before getting up and loading his necessities into his pockets. With that, he made his way out of his apartment. 

When he opened the building's front door, he immediately had to cover his eyes upon getting hit with the morning sun. But he quickly adjusted. Blinking the spots out of his vision, he found the neighborhood just the way he left it, full of life and happy people. 

But as with the aftermath of the bathroom incident, something was slightly amiss. Emmet grew nervous, trying to spot just what was out of place. 

His neighborhood looked like it usually did, colorful row houses lining the street, some with odd additions made by adventurous homeowners. The roads seemed a bit quiet, but that could have been attributed it being a weekend. Pedestrians still went about their business with their usual cheer, greeting friends and strangers alike with a smile and a wave. One of his neighbors even looked up to say 'good morning' to him, which he returned. 

Nothing specific stood out. 

The only thing he could think of was that things looked a bit… dull. More desaturated. 

As if the world had somehow lost a bit of its vibrance. 

The strange feeling started creeping up again. 

This time, Emmet refused to let it unsettle him, trying to force down the feeling rather than let it spread. 

"C'mon, Brickowski, get a grip," he mumbled to himself, sliding his hands down his face. 

A distant motorcycle rumble at the edge of hearing caught his attention. He perked up. He was more than familiar with the source of this particular bike and he couldn't help the slow smile spreading across his face as the vehicle drew closer, the strange feeling quickly forgotten. Before long, he caught sight of it and its helmeted rider a few blocks away. 

Like an excited fangirl, Emmet ran up to the curb, waving wildly at her, bouncing up and down to help catch her attention. A few passing joggers turned to give him odd looks, but otherwise paid little attention to him. 

Even from their distance, he and the rider could see each other clearly enough that the V sign she gave him couldn't be missed. Emmet made a squeak of delight. 

Lucy pulled up to the curb, her ride's engine puttering noisily until she switched off the ignition. Emmet took a few steps toward her, watching as she dismounted and engaged the kickstand. She looked up at him, giving a nod of acknowledgement as she worked at the helmet straps. He smiled as he waited patiently at her side, giving her some space as this routine was a meditative one. 

He knew it was a bit silly, but he liked anticipating the moment the helmet came off. Like in those movies where the mysterious heroine revealed her face to the audience for the first time. Except in this case, he already knew and adored what was underneath. 

Lucy pulled off her helmet. 

Just as suddenly as his earlier scare, Emmet's vision blurred and a strong sense of vertigo almost knocked him off balance. In a split second of panic, his view of Lucy wavered into a swirl of color, her characteristic neon blue and pink bleeding together with black and brown and yellow. 

Wait. 

Yellow? Brown? 

Emmet shook his head furiously, trying to get his brain back in order. Did he just have a seizure? That didn't seem like a seizure. A hallucination then? No, that didn't make sense either. First there was that random bout of terror at himself and now this? What was going on with him?? 

The scuffing of a foot on pavement drew him out of his thoughts and he looked up to find Lucy had already removed the rest of her gear and was making her way over. This time he got an unimpeded view of her looking concerned. 

"You alright, babe?" Lucy asked. 

"Y-Yeah! Alright!" he squeaked, suddenly finding himself unable to tear his eyes away from her. 

Even if she was just wearing her usual street clothes, she looked as radiant as ever. Her hair was pulled back into a high side-ponytail, with twin locks of black hair dyed bright cyan and magenta layered neatly over her dark, freckled face. With her painted lips curving upwards at the sight of him, the way her rounded face lit up never failed to make him weak in the knees. All because of how happy she was to see silly, old him! 

Lucy's laugh drew him out of his trance and Emmet blinked back into reality, startled at just how lost he'd been in staring at her. Lucy hadn't failed to notice this either. 

"What? You're acting like this is the first time you've ever seen me," she chuckled, her light brown eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. 

Emmet ducked his head down, blushing. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled sheepishly. He had to admit, there was something different about her, "I just couldn't help noticing you look… just… absolutely amazing." 

He shyly glanced back up to find her drawing close to him with a warm smile. 

"Aw, you're looking great too, babe," she replied, grinning. With that she tilted her head up to give him a quick kiss on the lips before turning back to her motorcycle to collect her things. 

Emmet blinked in surprise. He unconsciously raised his hand to lips, touching the spot where Lucy made contact. It was a much softer kiss than any he could recall being part of. 

He kind of liked it. 

"Hey! Help me move my bike?" Lucy called over, the sound of her voice bringing Emmet back down to earth. 

"O-Oh! Yeah! Sure!" he stuttered as he made his way over. 

With their combined effort, it didn't take long for the two of them to push the motorcycle into the small garage under his apartment, where Lucy began locking it up. As she worked, Lucy glanced over at her boyfriend. 

"So what were you saying about today?" she asked. "Was that little spacey episode a part of it?" 

Emmet bit his lip and frowned. "Kind of?" he hesitantly supplied. "Part of it was just, y'know… admiring you. Because you're amazing and I still can't believe you like me back." 

He said the last part in a rush, an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. Lucy laughed, shaking her head at him. 

"Emmet, it's not like I'm some goddess from up high, deigning to grace a mere mortal with her affections," she told him with teasing sarcasm. With the motorcycle locked, Lucy got up, dusting herself off as she drew close to Emmet. She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked into his eyes, which shone with a smile. 

"I'm only human, just like you." 

As soon as Lucy said this, Emmet's expression fell. Something about her words sounded off. 'Human' in particular stuck out to him like a sore thumb, nagging at him in a way that left him unsettled. He wasn't sure how to react, blinking into space with confusion. 

This didn't escape Lucy's notice. 

"Bad joke?" she asked, frowning in concern. 

Emmet snapped back to reality with a jolt and refocused on Lucy. His eyes widened as he realized what happened and he backed away from her, holding his hands to his face in mortification. 

"Sorry! Sorry, oh, jeez!" he groaned. How did this keep happening?? 

Lucy hadn't stopped staring at him, worry clear on her face. 

"This is like the second time that's happened. Are you sure you're feeling OK?" Lucy asked, raising a hand to Emmet's forehead and checking his temperature. 

Emmet allowed her to, but he looked away. 

"Yeah? No?" he tried helplessly, "I don't know." 

He sighed, leaning against the wall and sliding down it into a crouch. He absently knuckled his cheek, staring at the ground in worry. He didn't like being at such a loss. He watched as Lucy kneeled on the ground, looking him in eyes. 

"Maybe we ought to sit this one out," she suggested, patting a hand against Emmet's knee. 

That suggestion only made Emmet look at her like a kicked puppy. 

"Aww, Lucy, I don't want to cancel at the last minute!" he told her. "I hate when that happens. I don't want to do it to anyone else!" 

She nodded, but had a different opinion, "I think they'll understand if you're not feeling well." 

"But that's the thing. I don't feel weird _now_ ," Emmet said. "It just… happens. Like, something's not right. But then it doesn't seem so weird? And I wonder why it was so weird, but I can't remember why. And then it goes away and it's like nothing ever happened." 

Lucy leveled him with an even stare. 

"…How many times has this happened _today?_ " she asked. 

"Couple times?" Emmet admitted hesitantly. 

He proceeded to share with her what happened that morning, particularly the incident with his reflection. As he recounted events, he remembered the bizarre feeling that vexed him the most, one that felt most out of place. 

"For a second… It was like I was looking at something from another planet." 

Lucy didn't immediately respond. She looked thoughtful though, examining him with a critical eye before nodding sagely. 

"Well," she began, with real weight. She leaned in, gazing deep into his eyes and said, "You _are_ pretty out of this world." 

Dead silence. 

"Lucyyyyyy~!" Emmet whined despite bursting into giggles. 

Lucy's composure crumbled and she devolved into a snickering mess. It took a few minutes for them to get the laughter out of their systems but it was time well spent. Once she regained her wits, she wiped the tears from her eyes, slightly out of breath. 

"But for real," she said, this time with genuine seriousness, "You might need to see someone about that. Because that sounds a lot like dysphoria." 

Emmet looked at her curiously while he caught his breath, unfamiliar with the word. Lucy caught his expression and explained. 

"It's like your mental self-image and body aren't matching up and it's enough to cause problems." She paused, thinking carefully, "But what you're talking about sounds more like a symptom than a specific disorder. I'm sure we can find someone to talk to about this if it comes to it." 

Emmet frowned pensively. Mental problems were the last thing he needed to worry about. 

"I guess," he conceded. "But this just started today. Is that normal?" 

Lucy shrugged, "Who knows? Sometimes brains do weird things." 

Emmet really hoped his wasn't and was about to say so when he was cut off. 

**_BEEP BEEP_**

Startled, the two of their heads shot up to find a ridiculously massive vehicle parked at the curb, blocking out the view of the street. It had the rough size and shape of a charter bus and almost looked the part with its tinted windows. However most charter buses didn't have the polish on this thing, shining chrome where it wasn't a glossy black or dark gray. People were stopping to stare at it and it took the couple a few moments to snap out of their collective disbelief. 

"Dang," was all Emmet had to offer. 

Lucy regained her composure fairly quickly and got up. She offered a hand to Emmet, which he eagerly took, and helped haul him upright. Before she let go of him, she held him close, concerned. 

"You _sure_ you're OK with doing this?" she asked pointedly, brow creased in worry. "I don't want to have to take you home in an ambulance." 

"I-I'm sure I'll be fine!" Emmet said quickly. 

Lucy gave him an uneasy look as she pressed her lips together, giving him a once over before sighing. "If you're positive," she told him. She tried to relax, smiling at Emmet as she trotted over to the bus monstrosity. "C'mon, Bruce went all out on this thing. Might as well enjoy it, right?" 

"Heh, yeah," he chuckled, following her out. 

As Emmet neared the vehicle, he looked up at it nervously. He could see the silhouettes of his friends moving around inside, but none were very distinguishable. While he was excited to see them, hesitation kept him from moving. 

He frowned as he thought back. These episodes of weirdness kept happening at the strangest times. He would have thought crazier events brought these sort of issues out, but instead, they happened when he was dealing with completely normal things. Like a bizarre version of déjà vu. In this case, waves of _un_ familiarity would hit him with the familiar, things he knew perfectly well. He had an odd feeling that seeing his friends might cause something too. 

"You coming or not?" Lucy asked, poking her head out of the vehicle door. 

"Y-yeah!" Emmet said with a startled jump. "Just needed a sec!" 

He gave the vehicle one last look before sighing and making his way over. 

Well, he had a hypothesis. He might as well test it out. 

He walked up to the door and found Lucy waiting for him there. She smiled and took his hand, leading him up the steps. Emmet was rather surprised to see how big this thing was. It struck him that he was in some sort of crazy luxury RV that only weird rich people got. Which was hardly surprising since Bruce was a weird rich person. As he took another step up, he spotted his friends lounging around. 

The next thing he knew, he was being steered onto a bench with concerned noises coming from all around him. Someone pressed a cold bottle of water into his hand, urging him to drink it. 

"Huh?" was the best Emmet could manage. 

He tried to think back but all he could recall was a series of vague impressions stampeding through his head. He remembered floating chipped and faded blue, rainbows with massive teeth, seawatery mechanical parts, ' _I only work in black and sometimes very, very dark gray_ ', and most inexplicably, flying police sirens. Somehow it felt like all of it hit him at once. 

Someone shook him and Emmet looked at them in a daze. 

"What's the matter with you?" a pair of Irish sunglasses growled at him. 

"Oh hi, Mark," Emmet mumbled to them, off-kilter. 

The sunglasses squinted at him, then lifted up to reveal a pair of rounded normal glasses and a familiar pair of blue eyes. 

"He's really out of it," the glasses said. 

At this, Emmet's brain finally reset itself and he shook his head in confusion. He raised a hand to his head, wondering if he just had another episode. That had to be the worst one yet! 

"You sure? He's looking a little better to me," someone commented. Emmet looked up to find Benny now peering at him curiously. Benny's eyes narrowed as he gave Emmet a closer inspection. 

"See? His eyes are focusing now," he pointed out to Unikitty, worriedly standing by his side. 

"Hey, you're right!" Unikitty giggled. 

"Benny that's great, now can we please stop playing the 'I'm not touching you' game," Emmet said, staring cross-eyed at Benny's extended finger, still pointing at him. 

"Oop, sorry, dude," Benny chuckled, withdrawing his hand as he straightened up. 

As Benny stood back, Emmet found his friends standing around him, all watching him carefully with varying degrees of worry. Benny didn't seem that concerned, but he watched Emmet attentively, eyes scanning for anything out of place. Unikitty looked mostly relieved, her little robot cat ears turned upwards. Good Cop was much more uncertain, brow furrowed and mouth frowning. But the fact the GC was out probably meant that Bad Cop wasn't worried enough to come out and yell at him about it. He spotted Metalbeard lounging behind the others, relaxing while keeping his one eye trained on Emmet. Bruce on the other hand was scowling, looking for all the world like a put upon child. Emmet wasn't sure what would make Bruce look like such a sourpuss until the reason came marching up. 

Lucy looked angry. 

"OK, that's it! Emmet. Out," she announced as she pointed at him, before jabbing a thumb toward the door, "You are going to bed and we're going to figure out what's going on with you." 

While on the one hand, Lucy demanding he stay home to recover made him starry-eyed that she cared about him so much. But on the other, he'd regained his senses for the most part. Or he _thought_ he did anyways. And he still didn't want to bail on the trip. 

"Lucy, it's OK!" he said, making a show of standing up. He managed to pull that off with only minor wobbling, which he felt was good enough. "Look, I'm feeling better now!" 

It must not have worked because Lucy, GC, and Benny all stared at him in disbelief. 

"You almost _collapsed!_ " Lucy cried out incredulously. She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she steadied herself. She took a deep breath before she spoke, gesturing with her hands, "Babe, there's no point in pushing yourself for a goofy day trip. Just take it easy." 

Emmet wanted to argue that he was fine, but if he was being honest with himself, he was still feeling a bit woozy. In which case, maybe a day at home would be good. 

Thankfully for both sides, there was an alternative. 

"Uh, you know you can have it both ways," Bruce butted in. He gestured to the back of the RV. "This thing's decked out with a bed. You can take a nap while the rest of us do our thing." 

As he said this, the worried looks surrounding him brightened. 

"Yeah!" Unikitty said, her happy bounce accentuated by her frilly dress, "That's a great idea! You still get to hang out with us and you don't have to rest at home!" 

"Aye, we rather 'ave ye here than elsewheres!" Metalbeard chimed in. 

"And when you're feeling better, we'll be right there!" Benny pointed out. 

"Mind you, if you aren't feeling better," GC began cheerfully, then raised a hand to flip down his shades. "Then we'll make sure you stay in bed until you are," BC finished with a glare. 

Emmet turned to Lucy to see what she thought and found her smiling. 

"I think that works fine," she said. She caught Emmet's eye, "So? How about it?" 

He grinned, despite not feeling all too great. He really did have the best friends. 

"Yeah, I think I'm good with that." 

Bruce seemed to cheer up as Emmet said this and helped him get up. He led Emmet and Lucy to the rear of the RV, where they could see the interior in all its luxury. It looked more like a fancy living room than a camper. He slid open a door to reveal a large bed, which Emmet boggled at because he was positive it was bigger than his bed. 

"There you go," Bruce gestured. "Your home away from home. Just try not to puke in it, alright buddy?" he said, patting Emmet on the arm. 

"I'll do my best," Emmet chuckled. 

"I'll make sure he doesn't," Lucy reassured Bruce. 

"Please do, because I am not going to clean that up," he said, making his way back to the front. 

As he left, Emmet got a view of the entire group. Everyone seemed more relaxed now that his health wasn't in imminent danger or that they'd have to go without him. He was glad no one was getting left behind for this trip until he realized that someone actually _was_ missing. 

"Hey, where's Business?" Emmet asked them, "I thought he was coming too." 

"Couldn’t make it. Said he caught something," Bruce told him. He made a face as he thought back on it, "Sounded pretty off too. Like _way_ worse than you. And probably infectious." 

"Oh," Emmet said sadly. "I hope he's OK…" 

"It's Business, you know him. He'd probably got doctors waiting on him hand and foot," Lucy joked. "I'm sure he'll be fine." 

As she said this, the RV began to rumble as its engine was turned on. Emmet glanced to the front and found Bruce at the driver's seat, pushing at a lever to get it into gear. Metalbeard was in the side seat, looking up directions on a GPS device. The others started settle in, pulling out safety belts from their hiding spots. Benny was imitating a rocket launch sequence, which Unikitty was getting a laugh out of. Meanwhile, BC buckled himself in at Benny's side and looked ready to glare at everyone for the whole trip until he flipped up his sunglasses to let a much more excited GC take over. Emmet had the impression GC was the one who actually wanted to go on the trip with BC getting dragged along for the ride. 

Even though the worst of his odd episode was over, something about the scene still gnawed at him. Like something in him was screaming that none of this was right, even though it looked perfectly normal to him. The strange feeling in his gut came crawling back and Emmet made a resigned sigh at its return. 

Lucy must had heard him, for she placed her hand in his and gave him a reassuring squeeze. He gently smiled at her which she did in turn. 

Once everyone had strapped in, the RV slowly began pulling away from the front of Emmet's apartment building, soon roaring its way down the street. As he watched the city blur past, Emmet couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't going to see the end of his troubles for a while to come. 


	4. You Break It, You Buy It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Mystery Shack makes brisk business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thanks again to [LitheFider](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LitheFider) for beta reading this! :D

"Is it just me, or does there seem to be _way_ more people in here than usual?" Dipper asked as he looked around at the sales floor, finding no space in the tiny gift shop unoccupied. 

After Grunkle Ford dismissed them to help out Stan, Dipper and Mabel found themselves practically swamped with tourists for the whole day. People rifled through the shirt racks, spun the postcard stands, and poked at the various knickknacks lining the shelves. Even more amazingly, people were actually buying the merchandise in droves. Things left the shelves so frequently, that a few of them had to be resupplied multiple times. 

Of course, with so many things being picked up and moved around, Dipper was kept on his toes trying to keep the place properly organized, what with people repeatedly putting things back in the entirely wrong place. Retail was a career choice he now knew he _never_ wanted to deal with ever again. 

"It's not just you, dude," a tall red-headed girl replied. She looked peeved. "I was hoping I'd get to chill out, but not with this kind of crowd." 

Wendy Corduroy was the only other employee of the Mystery Shack after Soos. At fifteen, she seemed like the epitome of the hipster teenager with her flap-eared hat and turquoise flannel shirt. 

"Where did all these people come from?" Dipper wondered aloud. 

"Probably Bricksburg," Wendy guessed. "Summer break's almost over, so everyone's trying to get out and do dumb tourist things while they can." 

Dipper sharply turned to look at Wendy, who didn't notice. The way that Wendy spoke about Bricksburg was in the same casual tone Soos had earlier that morning. Like it was something that was supposed to be there, practically expected to be there, when he was positive it hadn't the day before. 

How many people were affected by this? 

Leaning on the counter with a slightly forced air of nonchalance, Dipper took the opening to learn a little more about this mysterious city. 

"Speaking of Bricksburg, you been there before?" he asked. 

"Shyeah!" Wendy turned to grin at him. She leaned against the counter, taking a few moments to relax while no one was bothering her. "It's where the guys and I go when we get sick of this dinky town. Which is a lot," she said with a wry smile. 

"Really," Dipper said, tilting his head to encourage her to go on. 

"Really," she nodded with an easy smile. "There's all kinds of neat stuff over there. They've got some of the better malls for one thing. That's where we usually go. Otherwise we get dragged there for field trips, but they're not too terrible. I kinda dig their space center. I think you'd like that one." 

Dipper stared at her incredulously. "Space center? What's a space center doing there?" 

"I dunno," Wendy shrugged. "I guess NASA thought it was a good place to launch rockets?" 

Dipper's brain came to a crashing stop. 

NASA? 

Rockets?? 

What on earth??? 

"Launch… rockets…?" he carefully repeated, doing his best to keep the hysteria out of his voice. 

He must not have done a very good job or his face had given it all away because Wendy laughed at his confusion. 

"What? You been out here this long and you didn't know that?" she teased him, only slightly disbelieving. "And here I thought you were good at paying attention." 

"What?! No, of course I knew!" he said quickly. He tried laughing it off, but it just came out nervous, "I just… Kinda forgot that was a thing that totally happens…" 

"Nah, that's understandable," the teen said. "When they do a launch, it's impossible to miss. That would have made for a fun reminder." She sighed wistfully, a look of regret in her eyes. "Man, it's too bad you came this year. They had to stop doing them. Something about budget cuts?" she explained uncertainly. 

For once, Dipper chose not to comment. This city was much stranger than he'd anticipated. Apparently it was important enough to warrant a government space facility of all things. 

What else did this place have to offer? 

"Wow," he said, not bothering to keep the awe out of his voice. "Bricksburg sounds kinda awesome." 

"Eh, Portland's better in my opinion," Wendy said dismissively. She frowned a little, "It's more chill over there, you know? Bricksburg? People are weirdly peppy over there. I mean, they're nice. It's just kinda weird how cheerful they are." 

She had a strange upturn to her mouth, as if she recalled something distasteful. So, it wasn't all that perfect then. Or at least it was to Wendy. 

"Mm… I wouldn't know. Haven't been yet," Dipper admitted truthfully. 

"Huh… That's funny…" Wendy said in a slow tone that sounded as if she'd just realized something about him. She gave him a strange look. "I don't remember you guys being interested in going there this whole summer. Never even mentioned it until now. Weird," she said, now looking rather puzzled. 

Dipper glanced away, thinking things over. Again there was that 'plot hole' of the Pines family never bringing up the city. Whatever was happening here had affected a fairly wide area. Soos and Wendy didn't live anywhere near each other, which meant that at least the entire town had to have been hit. Possibly the entire country if it was common knowledge rockets were launched in the middle of Oregon. Maybe even the whole world if this really was a NASA installation. Whatever was going on, this had to be an insanely powerful event to alter reality so thoroughly. It was best to tell Wendy what was up. 

"Yeah, about that-" Dipper began. 

"Excuse me! Is this the checkout?" a harried elderly woman cut in frantically. Her arms were loaded with a pile of all sorts of pet-related souvenirs, ranging from Mr. Mystery shaped cat toys to pet clothes printed with weird Mystery Shack slogans. Dipper was certain he counted at least ten question mark pet shirts in her possession, some of which already bore hairs from the woman's own heavily animal hair laden clothing. Even Wendy was a bit taken aback by the volume of merchandise she'd have to ring up. 

"Just a moment," Wendy said with a forced smile. The teen quickly turned to Dipper. "Sorry, guess I better get back to work," she apologized in an undertone. 

"Yeah, same here," he said, bowing out gracefully. He would help, but he'd already learned the hard way that Wendy had her own way of doing things and his help only meant he'd get in the way. 

He glanced around the shop, looking for something to do. While he'd been too busy to do more digging into the mystery of Bricksburg, at least the work day was going by faster than the frozen molasses pace it normally did. Hopefully, Grunkle Ford was getting somewhere in the investigation down in his secret lab. 

Dipper's gaze wandered to the opposite counter that featured a glass case full of cheap trinkets. Some kids must have been looking into it since he could see the grease left by them squashing their faces against it. He couldn't really blame them since the dim lighting in the case gave everything a more dignified quality it wouldn't have had otherwise. Still, he figured he ought to clean it before Grunkle Stan decided to annoy him about it. 

He went to the register counter and pulled a spray bottle of window cleaner along with a rag, and made his way back to the case. Just as he was about to finish cleaning off the face prints, the glass rattled under his hand as something noisily bumped into the counter from behind. Dipper paused, wondering what on earth was going on. 

Was a customer trying to play some stupid prank on him? Again? Then he heard the sisterly giggle coming behind the counter and he sighed. 

"Mabel, what're you doing?" the boy asked as he stood back up, already annoyed by whatever it was the girl was trying to pull. Mabel wisely chose not to answer him, only shuffling into place behind the piece of furniture. 

At the end of the counter, a familiar hand slipped over the edge, something small, colorful and plastic grasped in its fingers. The hand bounced the thing around as if it were walking, cheerful little ' _doop_ 's accompanying as it went. It turned to face Dipper. He raised an eyebrow, uncertain as to what was happening. 

"' _Hi!_ '" very obviously Mabel said in badly attempted baritone. "' _My name's Dipper and I like solving mysteries! Mysteries, mysteries, mysteries!_ '" 

Dipper squinted at her hand. "Mabel, what the heck." 

With her performance over, his sister stood up with a bright grin, brandishing what he now saw was a little Lego mini-figure, one of the more people-shaped Lego pieces. Dipper took another look and found that this particular one was done up in colors like his usual outfit. Even its little cap bore a blue stylized pine tree carefully painted on it. 

"Like it?" Mabel asked eagerly, "I did some custom work on those old Legos!" 

She reached into her pockets and pulled out more plastic mini-figures and a pig, holding them up for her brother to see. As she spoke, she pointed to each of them respectively, "Check it out! I made Lego you, Lego me, Lego Waddles, and Lego Grunkle Stan! I'm still working on everyone else, but you get the picture!" 

Dipper stared at her blankly. "Why…?" 

Mabel's expression soured, "Because _some_ pig got into my old wood models and chewed them up!" 

Dipper thought back and did actually recall something. "That explains the sign on Waddles last week." 

_Dipper had come out of the woods one day to find an unhappy pot-bellied pig speeding through the yard with a piece of cardboard tied around its neck. He only caught the words 'I ate' before the pig rounded the corner, just as a frustrated Mabel made it to the scene. He silently pointed in the direction the pig had gone and Mabel managed a breathless thanks before she charged after it._

" _Pig shaming_ ," was Mabel's only explanation, her eyes narrowed. The look quickly passed as she proudly brought up the plastic figurines once more. "So these are my replacements! Hopefully much less tasty than wood!" 

The boy thought back to earlier that morning. He didn't recall seeing any mini-figures scattered among the plastic mess all over her bed covers. 

"Then what's up with all the regular Legos on your bed?" he asked. "Unless you actually like sleeping on hard pointy things, I don't see why why you're bothering with those if you're just making replacement figures." 

His sister was busy admiring her handiwork as she answered him, "Oh, that's just my system for a bunch of other things I'm gonna make!" 

"Other stuff?" Dipper asked uncertainly, "Like what?" 

She looked up, gaping at him. 

"I can't just make Lego us and not make them anything else! They need a Lego Mystery Shack to live in too!" Mabel exclaimed incredulously. As she said this, she grew contemplative, "And maybe some of the surrounding forests and - ooh! I can make a Lego Gravity Falls for Lego everyone to hang out in!" 

She already had the giddy, faraway look of another project getting completely out of hand, not unlike her insane puppet show some weeks back. Dipper decided to bring her back to reality. 

"Are you really going to build all that?" he asked dubiously. 

"Uh, duh!" Mabel scoffed. 

He shrugged with a sigh, realizing it was already too late to dissuade her, "Alright, you have fun losing your mind over that." 

Mabel puffed out her cheeks at him with a glare. She pulled out Lego Dipper again and spoke in her baritone impression of her brother, "' _I'm Dipper and I hate fun! Mysteries, mysteries, mysteries, Wendy!_ '" 

Dipper flushed bright red. 

"Give me that!" he hissed as he swiped it from Mabel's hand. 

"Hey!" Mabel protested. "Unhand my plastic brother, brother!" 

"' _No!_ '" he said, putting on a falsetto, holding up the Lego and bobbing the toy in the air in tune with his words,"' _I like_ actual _Dipper better and I'm gonna hang out with him!_ '" 

"Well, you don't say, little me!" Dipper said in his normal voice, but sounding honored as he turned the toy to face him. "I would love to have you for company!" 

Mabel clasped her face as she gasped dramatically. She pointed at the toy and yelled, "Traitor!" 

The two siblings glared at each other, matching angry scowl for angry scowl. Then one of their lips twitched and they simultaneously cracked up, smashing whatever illusion that may have formed that they were actually upset at each other. 

As their laughter subsided, Dipper gave the Lego in his hand a closer examination. He had to hand it to her, Mabel's custom paintwork was impeccable. The lines were neat and the colors were bold and true to life. Even more remarkable were her distinct personal touches made in baked polymer clay, like the add-on for his vest collar and his curled brown hair neatly fitted to the cap. 

"This is pretty good!" he told her. However, there was a small detail he hadn't noticed the first time. He held up the mini-figure and pointed to its face, "Hey, my eyebags aren't _that_ bad are they?" 

Mabel rolled her eyes as she stuck out her tongue, giving him a cheeky smile. She held out an arm and dismissively waved him off. 

"Oh Dipper, you need look into a mirror more often!" she knowingly teased him. He pouted at her. 

The showroom curtains noisily flapped open at the moment, as Grunkle Stan led the latest tour group out. 

"And don't forget: You break it, you buy it! No exceptions!" he declared loudly as he waved the crowd through, which steadily filtered their way into the gift shop, mingling with the remnants of the previous tour group as they too began to peruse the souvenirs. 

While most of the people dispersed into their own individual groups, a small cluster hung back by the curtains. The seemed more interested in talking with each other than looking through the merchandise. Interestingly, none of them seemed particularly impressed. In fact, this smaller group just looked like they were trying to hold in their laughter. A quick glance gave him the impression that these were an eclectic bunch themselves. 

Dipper took a moment to collect the cleaning supplies and returned them to their proper location. Wendy was finishing up the last of the pet lady's massive purchase and had handed off the last bag when Dipper straightened back up to observe the new crowd. The older girl hadn't failed to pick out the newcomers either. 

"Looks like we got some smarties for once," she noted appreciatively. Wendy leaned over to stage whisper at Dipper, "Let's hope they're too smart to buy anything and we can finally catch a break!" 

Dipper laughed. He was about to respond when a heavy palm slammed against the top of the counter.

Pressing his weight into his hand, Grunkle Stan conspiringly leaned in towards the two. 

"I don't trust those guys," he said in a lower gravelly voice, jabbing a thumb in the strangers' direction. "You kids keep an eye on 'em y'hear? They pull any funny business, out they go!" 

Wendy and Dipper exchanged glances. 

"How come?" Dipper asked skeptically. 

"Ain't it obvious?" Stan exclaimed as if it actually were, completely forgetting his earlier attempt at discretion. "They're carnies! Why else would they look like that? I even caught 'em laughing at the displays. Takes a con-man to know a con-man." He narrowed his eyes and glared at them with fathoms deep suspicion. 

The little group burst out laughing. They must have heard Stan based on the furtive little glances they kept giving him. One of them even gave the older man a friendly wave back. 

Stan's glower deepened. 

Dipper and Wendy snickered. 

Stan turned to face them both, fixing a glare on the two. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. Carnies'll steal the roof from right off your head if you let 'em!" he proclaimed, gesturing to said roof. The man then leaned in closer, pointedly tapping his fake eyepatch, "Keep an eye on 'em. Capiche?" 

"Fine," Wendy groaned with a roll of her eyes. 

"OK," Dipper sighed wearily. 

"Good!" Stan said firmly as he straightened up. "The sooner they get out, the better!" 

With that, he left through the Employees Only door, likely to get a soda or put his feet up for a few minutes before the next tour. 

The kids shared a glance. 

"You gonna totally ignore them?" Wendy asked. 

"Absolutely," Dipper nodded. 

"Same," she replied with a smile. 

Dipper smiled back. It was always nice to know he had back-up when dealing with Grunkle Stan's weirdness. 

He was about to ask Wendy another question about Bricksburg, when his view of the world was lost to sudden wild shaking. Fortunately, based on the hands gripping his shoulders, this shaking had a fairly obvious cause. 

"Dipper, Dipper, Dipper, look!" Mabel whispered at him excitedly. She finally stopped shaking him long enough to point dramatically. It took him a second to get his eyeballs to stop rolling around in his head, but once he did, he could see what had gotten both her and Grunkle Stan so worked up. 

"…Space hair?" he asked, dazed and unsure of what he was seeing. 

" _Space hair!_ " she confirmed excitedly. 

Mabel wasn't kidding. 

It was one of the 'carnies', now wandering on his own through the shop. Though he was decked out in a normal enough faded blue hoodie and sweatpants, his hair was another matter entirely. It was set in a messy mohawk, tips dyed in streaks of purple and blue against black hair. The sides of his scalp weren't fully shaved bald, covered instead in a light coating of short fuzz where designs were further shaved into the scalp, creating a canvas of stars and a shooting rocket, filled in with vibrant dye. 

It was… 

"Fantabulous!" Mabel squealed. She squished her cheeks, "I gotta know how he did that!" 

Dipper gave her a concerned glance, familiar with what those words meant. "You know Mom's going to flip out if you come home like that." 

Mabel didn't even look at him as she brushed him off. "Pfft! She can deal with it." 

"Dude, you think that guy's nuts?" Wendy whispered to them with a hint of a snicker. "Check out the pink explosion over there." 

She gestured to another one of the carnies that was also shopping around, an olive-skinned, white-haired girl around her age who was dressed in the physical embodiment of the word 'flouncy'. The pink lolita dress stood out with its bright colors and masses of ruffles and lace, accented with a myriad of bows. It even had a petticoat flaring it out into voluminous proportions. More frills could be found gracing her long lacy blue gloves and yellow stockings. 

But what really got them to stare were the… accessories. 

"What." 

Surprisingly, Mabel's reaction was more measured. 

"Hrm…" she hummed critically. Her eyes narrowed as she observed the girl, "She's wearing a unicorn horn, but also a fluffy kitty tail and those _adorable_ little brainwave kitty ears!" Mabel gave herself a moment gush over the headband before giving her conclusion, "I'd almost say she'd be my role model if it weren't for that unicorn bit…" 

Every mention of unicorns was laden with a sourness that Dipper was still adjusting to after a lifetime of witnessing his sister's adoration for the creatures. To be fair, learning that your imaginary idol was a selfish jerk in reality tended to have that effect on people. 

"Yeesh, those unicorns burned you real bad, huh?" Dipper commented. 

"THEY WERE SUCH JERKS!" Mabel cried to the heavens. 

"The biggest," Wendy confirmed sagely. She scowled, "I've still got bruises shaped like hooves on me." 

Mabel turned to Wendy with gasp, her eyes wide and shining. 

"You should get tattoos of your bruises!" she excitedly suggested. "Grenda and Candy are trying to figure out how to do it without their parents noticing!" 

Wendy looked thoughtful about it. 

"Tattoos to commemorate the time me and my friends beat the snot out of some prissy unicorns," she said carefully, testing out the idea. She broke into a wicked grin, "That is the greatest idea I've ever heard." Wendy leaned in to whisper to Mabel, "Dude, I know a place that doesn't even _care_ how old you are." 

As the two girls discussed tattoo parlors in the area, Dipper tuned them out. He'd rather not be privy to whatever needle-related shenanigans they might get into. 'Plausible deniability and all that' as Grunkle Stan would say. 

Dipper glanced at the other side of the room and spotted two more new faces walk through the gift shop curtains. A woman and a man; black and South Asian, perhaps Indian, respectively. They were a couple from the looks of it, their bodies locked together in a close embrace even as they walked side-by-side. He caught one of them saying something about raccoons, which only made the other laugh. 

They looked happy. 

The boy felt a slight pang of heartache at the sight. He snuck a peek at Wendy as she and Mabel secretly plotted to get inked. Dipper's crush on her had waned, but not enough to stop him from looking at her longingly. Thankfully, he didn't do it often; but when he did, he felt it bad. 

He sighed, forcing himself to turn away from Wendy. Deciding he needed a distraction, he searched around for the other carnies and was a little surprised at what he saw. The couple apparently were a part of them. They talked and laughed with the others easily enough, so they had to have been friends. The lady fit right in, but the guy really stuck out in a group so full of weirdos. 

He looked… plain. Normal. Almost painfully so. 

How did Normal McNormalson here wind up with a bunch of carnies? There had to be a fun story in there somewhere. 

Someone cleared their throat and when Dipper turned to look, he was surprised to find Space-hair Guy waiting on bouncing feet. 

"Hi!" the guy chirped cheerfully. 

Now that he was up close, Dipper noted that he seemed to be of East Asian descent. What was more interesting was the constant state of motion he was in. He bounced and fidgeted as if he had an excess of energy he didn't know what to do with. Even his words held a frenetic tone that he likened to Mabel's when she was on a sugar high. 

"Uh, this might be kind of a dumb question to ask, but you got any spaceship stuff here?" he asked, eyes shining with a nervous hopefulness. 

Dipper heard Mabel gasp behind him and run off, leaving him to stare at the guy, not entirely sure what to say. Someone else did though. 

"Benny, we're in the middle o' the woods in a building called the 'Mystery Hack'. What would they have spaceship stuff for?" one of the supposed carnies barked at the guy in a thick Irish brogue. 

His accent certainly stood out but that wasn't the only trait that did. The man _looked_ like a police officer. Not to say that he was wearing a uniform, but it felt like if one spontaneously materialized on him, no one would have questioned its place there. He naturally radiated with such authority, it made Dipper stand a little straighter lest he get reprimanded for slouching. Not even the clip-on sunglasses he kept fiddling with could detract from that. 

"You never know!" the now named Benny pouted, countering with an exaggerated shrug. Although it looked like there was one person in the world who wasn't fazed by the Irish guy's sternness. 

Figuring it couldn't hurt to toss Benny a bone, Dipper slid a box near the register to the center of his attention. 

"Uh, well, we have these UFO keychains. They light up," he offered, picking one up. He clicked the top dome and it lit up in bright blue. 

Benny perked up, looking fascinated for a moment, but he frowned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Mm… Nah, not really what I had in mind. I was thinking like maybe man-made stuff?" 

Before Dipper could suggest something else, he was shoved aside with a yelp and Mabel took his place. She placed something on the counter with a flourish, "It's not exactly normal stock, but I made _this_ earlier!" 

A scowling Dipper was ready to give Mabel a piece of his mind when he saw just what she was trying to shill. It was a fairly simple collection of Lego pieces assembled to look like a little retro sci-fi plane of a sort. Not a very big one as there was only one spot for a mini-figure to sit in. Most of the colors didn't even match. 

Dipper didn't think a little hodgepodge toy would be it either, until he saw Benny's eyes light up like the sun. The man picked it up almost reverently, mouth agape in wonder as he examined it, turning it over and around. It made the man's one over-dilated pupil in his amber irises stand out. 

"Oh my gosh this is so neat!" he gushed breathlessly, stars practically gleaming in his eyes. 

"Isn't it?!" Mabel asked as she bounced excitedly. 

Benny held up the little toy for his friends to see. Only the policeman was paying attention, but that didn't deter Benny from eagerly showing it to him. 

"BC, look! Teeny spaceship!" he squeed. 

"Ben," older man groaned. But there was a hint of fondness in his exasperation this time. Dipper could have sworn he'd seen a flash of a tiny smile on his stern face. 

Dipper looked between the two men uncertainly. There was a vibe between them that he wasn't sure he entirely understood. And if it was what he suspected, he wasn't sure how that would work considering how drastically different the two were in personality. 

He shrugged it off. He'd heard of stranger pairings. Like a badger and a snake. 

Snadger. 

He barely managed to cover his mouth in time as he laughed at the memory of Mabel's bizarre drawing. Thankfully, no one noticed his giggle fit. 

"So how much would I owe you?" Benny asked as he reached into his hoodie pocket to rummage around for his wallet. He managed to pull out a fistful of napkins. He frowned and put them back. His next venture turned out a pack of gum and a blocky flip phone. He sighed in frustration. 

Fortunately for him, Mabel didn't seem to have considered setting a price. She tapped her chin, thinking carefully, "Well…" 

"That'll be fifty dollars!" Grunkle Stan butted in from out of nowhere, slamming a hand down on the counter between the two and rattling the little spaceship. 

"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel said reproachfully. 

"Sweetie, c'mon!" he implored, with a sly grin. "You put your- eh- what was it you said?" he faltered, wheeling a hand in the air as he dredged up his memories. He snapped his fingers and pointed at her, "Your blood, sweat, tears and other bodily fluids into it! Yeah! That's it!" 

Mabel put her hands against her hips, frowning at him, "Grunkle Stan that was for an entire life-size wax sculpture, not little a spaceship I made using some old instructions I found. I can't charge fifty for it!" 

"Yeah, I'm with her," Benny said quickly, holding both hands up as he backed away from the counter while looking between them nervously. He gave Mabel a regretful look, "Sorry, man, it's neat, but not fifty-bucks neat." 

"Fine, fine," Stan groused, rubbing his brow as he held out a hand to get Benny to wait. "Forty-nine and it's yours." 

Benny raised an eyebrow. He gave a stony, defiant look as he crossed his arms, recognizing the game Stan was trying to play. He seemed ready to play along. 

"How about fifteen?" he shot back coolly. 

Stan balked. 

"Fifteen?!" he cried. He pointed an angry finger at Benny, "That's robbery! Forty-eight, then." 

Unruffled, Benny stood his ground. He sniffed disdainfully, "Fifteen bucks or I'm not even gonna bother." 

"Augh!" Stan gripped his fez in frustration. He leveled a glare at his opponent, "Forty-seven and that's my final offer!" 

"Ten bucks!" Mabel shouted as she jumped in excitedly, fist pumped into the air. Her eyes narrowed and she pointed at him, shrewdly adding another caveat, " _And_ you tell me how you got your hair like that!" 

"Deal!" Benny declared, his bargaining face instantly replaced with his earlier gleeful one as he held out his hand. Mabel grasped his hand and the two shook on it, their bright grins matching each other's. 

Stan stared in disbelief. 

"What?!" he cried. He gestured with both arms at the spaceship, "Mabel! You can't just go around selling your work for ten dollars and hair-care advice! 

But Mabel seemed ready for this as she took on a more stern posture and cleared her throat. She held up a finger to stop any further protests. 

"Grunkle Stan, I'll have you know that this was a negotiation between an artist and a client. It's a very delicate balancing act of adhering to the client's needs and the artist's own aesthetic judgement. As such, it was a private affair between two parties. And as an outside party, your input was not needed," she said crisply and professionally. Then she threw that facade out to beam at him with a cutesy pose, "But thanks for trying!" 

For once, the conman was at a loss. 

"I did not understand a single word of that," he admitted. Instead of being upset though, he broke out into a proud smile. "But I know expert legalese when I hear it! Good job, pumpkin!" Stan complimented, mussing her hair affectionately. 

Mabel laughed at his roughhousing, "Thanks, Grunkle Stan!" 

"Anytime, kiddo!" he chuckled, patting her on the back as he made his way into the back of the shop. 

Benny stared at Mabel in wonder and a little terrified awe. 

"Are you gonna be a lawyer when you grow up?" he asked, still rather boggled at her performance. 

"Nah, I just read a lot of art blogs," Mabel laughed with a shrug. She then lifted herself up on the counter by her arms and leaned in, eyes shining with excitement, "So! Tell me how you did that to your hair!" 

As the two began their discussion, Dipper wandered off. During the haggling, Wendy found herself busy with customers again, leaving no one for him to talk to. He could go look for Soos in the house later, but the last that Dipper had heard from the large man was that he was trying to fix the toilet again. Checking the clock, he was surprised to find that it was almost closing time. It certainly explained why Grunkle Stan was hanging around the gift shop instead of prepping the next tour group. 

Where had the entire day gone? 

So much for investigating the Bricksburg mystery… 

Dipper sighed and leaned heavily against the freezer by the exit. 

On any other day, this would not have resulted in anything. But today, something hard and sharp firmly jabbed him in the rear. He squeaked as he jumped in surprise, quickly spinning around to examine the cold machine. Nothing on it should have poked him that hard, so he reached into his back pockets. Sure enough, he found a foreign object resting in one and pulled out the culprit. He was going to toss whatever it was straight into the trash until he discovered that it was little Lego Dipper. He must have accidentally pocketed it after he nabbed it from Mabel. 

Relieved that he hadn't been bitten by some interloping creature, he examined it again. Dipper frowned at the eyebags. They couldn't be _that_ terrible, could they? He held it up, wondering if the lighting would affect how they looked on the Lego. But no such luck. They were hopelessly bad no matter which way he turned it. He hoped Mabel was only exaggerating for the sake of caricature. Yeah, that had to be it, he reassured himself. 

Then Lego Dipper was plucked from his hand. 

"Hey!" Dipper shouted. A flare of rage lit up in him and he spun on his heel to face whoever had stolen the little toy without so much as a warning. "Give that back!" he angrily demanded. 

Lucky for him, the thief hadn't made a run for it at all. They simply stood there, Lego in hand as they silently examined it. To his surprise, it was one half of the couple he'd spotted earlier: the plain-looking Indian man. A man who was now staring in bewilderment at the Lego, as if he'd never seen one before. 

"Hey!" Dipper yelled, any patience gone. "What's the matter with you?! Give it back!" 

He tried to jump up and take it back, but he was only able to flail so far for it before gravity brought him back down. He was about to make another leap for the toy when he caught the man's expression. His aggravation fizzled out. 

"Hello?" he called out hesitantly, now far more worried than angry. 

Something was wrong with this guy. 

His skin tone was losing its color, fading to an alarming gray, like the blood was draining from his face all at once. Faint tremors ran through his body, steadily gaining strength and visibility. Sweat trickled down the side of his face. 

"Emmet?" called the other half of the couple. She too watched him with clear worry and began to make her way over. Their friends slowly began to catch on that something was happening and one-by-one they too turned to the situation. 

Unnoticed by anyone else, Dipper saw the man's eyes widen a fraction. 

And like a switch had been flipped, his eyes rolled back in his head. Dipper could only watch in slow motion as the man collapsed, the mini-fig tumbling from his hand with a dull clatter, a heavier thud following as he hit the floor. 

The man did not get back up. 


	5. The Raccoon vs. the Lizard Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wyldstyle makes fun of really bad taxidermy.

"And here's where we end our trip into the mysterious mysteries of Gravity Falls!" a gruff, aging man told his rapt audience. With his smart suit, fez, and black eye-patch, Mr. Mystery of the Mystery Shack was the picture perfect definition of a cheesy haunted house tour guide. As he led the group up to a red velvet curtain covering an entry way, he leaned in, looking shocked, "But, wait! What's this? Another room of mysterious wonder? Have a look if you dare… at the Mystery Shack Gift Shop!" he threw open the curtain with a flourish, "Where all your money will mysteriously vanish without a trace!"

The majority of the crowd applauded, laughing along with the terrible joke. But what Wyldstyle laughed at was Mr. Mystery's absurdly bald-faced admission that it was all a great big scam. The sheer audacity of that man was almost admirable.

"And don't forget: You break it, you buy it! No exceptions!" he declared cheerfully, undoubtedly more than happy to reinforce that rule.

While their fellow tour group members chattered excitedly as they moved along to the gift shop, she and her friends hung back at the curtains. Based on their expressions, her companions were just as unimpressed as she was. Of course, she already knew that from the near constant jokes about the exhibits they traded throughout the tour.

"So how bad do you think Mr. Mystery hates us?" Wyldstyle asked, her grin cheeky.

"Hmm…" Unikitty thought. She turned to see where the older man had gone and burst out laughing. "I'd say _real_ bad! He looks like he swallowed a lemon!"

Wyldstyle turned to take a look for herself and sputtered out a laugh. He was giving them such a sour glare that milk probably spontaneously curdled within a two mile radius. She watched as he leaned in to talk to the gift shop's cashiers, no doubt saying rude things about them. Considering the amount of riffing they did, she couldn't really blame the old codger for making a few back.

Just as she wondered exactly what he was saying about them, Mr. Mystery burst out: "Ain't it obvious? They're carnies!"

They went into hysterics.

" _Carnies?!_ That's a new one!" Benny wheezed out, laughing so hard tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away and waved cheerfully at the man.

Mr. Mystery glared even harder.

"Oh man, we're gonna get banned from this place, aren't we?!" Benny asked in a pitched voice.

"That would be amazing!" Bruce snickered gleefully. "I've never been banned from a place as myself!"

This just made the entire drive to Gravity Falls worth it. After all, it wasn't everyday one got to piss off the crotchety owner of a tourist trap.

The Mystery Shack was their last stop of the day and it was subsequently meant to be the crowning jewel in tacky road entertainment. The rickety cabin was purportedly home of the weirdest of the weird, the freakiest of the freakish, and exhibited some of the strangest phenomenon the world had to offer.

All Wyldstyle saw was really bad taxidermy and garbage.

It wasn’t the closing number they were hoping for, but this wasn’t a bad way to end an already ridiculous trip either. Things had proven themselves more fun than she'd anticipated, particularly with the silly things she and the others got themselves into.

They'd already wandered through a corn maze, where Emmet made a joke so painfully awful that she refused to speak to him until they got out. They spent some time staring at a giant ball of yarn, which Unikitty made them take multiple pictures of her playfully batting at it with giant costume cat paws. They went into an upside-down house that Benny informed them was kind of like being in space except stupid. They explored an actual ice cave that made its own ice, which Bruce kept slipping in, making him grumble that he should have brought ice cleats. They wandered through a spooky lava tunnel with only gas lanterns for lighting, where Metalbeard kept telling them ghost stories to see who he could freak out (Emmet). And they explored an elaborate rock sculpture garden that BC and GC genuinely seemed to enjoy, likening it to a zen thing.

There were plenty of other spots they considered visiting. They wanted to go to the Oregon Vortex and a creepy toy museum, but time and distance wouldn't have been in their favor. Mystery Mountain was another but Metalbeard was having none of it, putting down his peg leg on even fancying the idea.

Who knew he had such a bad case of arachnophobia?

As their laughter subsided, Wyldstyle spotted Mr. Mystery making his way over to their group, his suspicious scowl aimed directly at them. She sensed the others tensing up in excitement too. Only Benny and Unikitty didn't seem interested in getting yelled at as she noticed them slip off into the gift shop.

"Oh, crap," she muttered under her breath, "Is he really going to-?!"

The older man stopped a few feet from them. He reached out an arm and grabbed the side of the wooden 'Employees Only' door, pulling it wide open. He pointed two fingers at his narrowed eyes and then turned them around to jab in their direction. The two fingers stayed trained on them even as he walked backwards into the private area, closing the door behind him.

The four stared after him.

"Well, that be disappointin'," Metalbeard commented.

"Yeah, that'd've been fun," GC pouted. He raised a hand to flip down his shades.

"Are we actually disappointed to not get banned from a wreck like this?" BC growled incredulously. His lip raised in a sneer, "You know he's breakin' at least thirty-eight different laws just runnin' this place."

"Forty even, actually," GC corrected with a cheery smile. He'd flicked up the shades just as BC finished speaking. "But who's counting? We're off duty after all."

"Yeah! And it's not even your jurisdiction!" Unikitty chipped in, popping in from out of nowhere. None of them so much as flinched at her sudden appearance. She put a hand on her hips and used the other to wag a disapproving finger at the Cops, "So no arresting Mr. Mystery! Even if he is a total charlatan!"

BC took control and gave her the most exasperated glare he could muster. He rewarded her with a grumbling sigh, " _Fine_."

"Yay!!" Unikitty cheered and gave BC a tight hug. He rolled his eyes, but gave her a pat on the head anyways.

In the meantime, Wyldstyle nudged Bruce in the side with a playful smile, "Still glad you forked out twenty bucks for each of us, Bruce?"

"Pshh… This was nothing,” he boasted, waving her off, "All in the good name of boosting local economies."

She chuckled, "Considering how much money you've already dropped on all this, I wouldn't be surprised if you just put all these guys in the black."

"I do what I can," Bruce drawled, looking proud of himself, "Helping the community and greater good and all that." She caught him blowing on his nails before polishing them against his shirt, puffing out his chest all the while.

He preened and she couldn't help but remember the times they had when they were an item. They weren't bad together by any stretch of the imagination, but there was always an undercurrent of ego on both sides to contend with. Rather brittle egos now that she thought about it. Both fell in love with the idea of each other and neither of them had been interested in anything deeper in their relationship. And both were fine with it. When they did finally break up, it was on mutual terms. Fortunately that just meant that as exes, they still got along perfectly fine.

And it _did_ mean she felt a little more open to poking fun at him.

“By the way, how's the Bat-Butt? Recovered from all that ice yet?"

Bruce's face dropped, his eyes widening as his attention snapped to Wyldstyle, who grinned slyly at him. It was fun watching him deflate from proud adult man to petulant twelve-year-old in a matter of seconds.

"The Bat-Butt is fine," he quickly said through gritted teeth, crossing his arms in a huff, a hint of a blush dusting his cheeks.

She was about to completely lose her composure from laughter when BC suddenly interrupted.

"Anyone seen Brickowski?" he asked out loud.

As one, it hit them that they hadn't seen their friend for a little while now. Emmet had definitely been there right next to them on the tour, taking pictures and laughing at their jokes. Wyldstyle felt a thread of tension weaving through them, so she took a quick look around. He wasn't in the gift shop and she was positive she would have noticed if he had already left. Which meant he was probably still hanging around the exhibits.

"I'll go look for him," she excused herself from the others and went back through the curtains.

The entire trip was tinged with a wariness around Emmet. After watching him crumple like a rag doll in the RV, they couldn't help being a little freaked out. Everyone kept a careful eye on him, checking him if he stumbled, making sure he didn't get lost, that sort of thing.

Emmet noticed of course.

While he accepted their help, it left him frustrated. He still couldn't figure out what was going on with him. And if things didn't improve soon, he seriously considered seeing a neurologist. She hoped for his sake that this was only temporary. If Emmet was suddenly starting to lose his mind on top of everything they'd already been through, she wasn't sure if any of them could handle it.

Once Wyldstyle walked back into the main hall, she scanned the vicinity for her boyfriend. Only a few other tourists were still milling around the exhibit room, taking extra pictures and whatnot. It wasn't too difficult to pick him out.

"…Emmet?" she called out.

Wyldstyle found him standing before an odd display, in which someone had glued a set of pistols to the paws of a taxidermic raccoon and stuck the whole mess onto a vaguely person shaped log. It was aptly named 'Gun Raccoon and ManLog'. Emmet seemed transfixed by it.

"Hey, there you are," she called out, grabbing his attention. She jerked a thumb in the direction of the exit, "Had about enough of this junk?"

Emmet snapped out of his thoughts and turned to her, slightly startled. But seeing it was only her, he relaxed and flashed her an easy grin. It was a welcome sight to see him acting more like himself.

"I think it's kinda neat! Like here, check it out, these guys look like they're fighting," he said, gesturing to two displays.

Wyldstyle glanced over and indeed, the raccoon looked like it was about to shoot a neighboring dinosaur. A naked, inaccurate dinosaur. One that someone had taken the liberty of correcting its placard by scribbling out the word 'Dinosaur' and adding 'Lizard Monster' on top of it in childish script followed by 'You're welcome, Grunkle Stan'. She cocked her head to the side.

"Weird," she commented. She turned to her boyfriend with playful smirk. "Who do you think would win?"

"Raccoon," he answered easily. "It has guns."

"True, but does it know how to use them?" Wyldstyle countered thoughtfully, "Because that does not look like a raccoon that knows what it's doing." It really didn't. The eyes faced in opposite directions and its face was set in a dull slack-jawed expression. It looked rather like it was screaming in confusion. "The dino-monster would eat it in no time!"

"No way!" Emmet laughed. "Raccoons are small and fast! I bet it'd get away. And it's got thumbs so it _could_ actually shoot the dinosaur."

She let out an undignified snort, "Have you even seen a raccoon? They're waddly little balls of fat! They're really not that fast. Especially if they're busy eating garbage all the time."

Emmet's face fell a little and her heart skipped, wondering what she'd said wrong.

"I've… never seen a live one," he carefully admitted. He sullenly looked away, hunching his shoulders as if embarrassed. "The ones I've encountered were all roadkill."

That sobering thought had Wyldstyle making a sympathetic noise as she reached up behind his lower back to hold him close to her. With their sides touching, she rubbed his back reassuringly.

“Hey, we're this deep in the woods, maybe you'll get lucky and spot a live one," she said. He perked up.

"You think so?" he asked. There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"Why not?" Wyldstyle shrugged, giving him an easy smile. She leaned into him, resting her freckled cheek against his collarbone as she wrapped both arms around him. In turn, Emmet made a happy sigh as he nuzzled his face in her hair, reaching out hold her the same way she held him.

For a few quiet moments, they basked in each other's presence.

And for a little while, things felt right with the world.

"This is kind of a weird place for cuddling, don't you think?" Emmet pointed out.

"You're ruining the moment, babe," Wyldstyle calmly told him.

"Sorry…"

They stood there for a little while longer.

"How's your head doing?" she eventually asked from her place, too comfortable to feel like moving. She felt Emmet's voice rumble through his chest as he spoke with some hesitance.

"It's holding up."

"Think you can get home in one piece?"

"Pretty sure, I can," Emmet replied, this time with more confidence. He kissed the top of her head and she laughed lightly.

"Awesome," Wyldstyle said earnestly. She reluctantly lifted her head to straighten up her stance. "Let's hope you're right, because we're probably going to head back soon."

Emmet looked surprised. And a little saddened. "Aww… Already?"

"Yeah, everyone else is in the gift shop,” she told him. She raised an eyebrow curiously, “You want to stay longer in the crazy shack?”

“Not here specifically!” he snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. His chuckles faded as his eyes took on a faraway look. With an uncommonly wistful sigh, he hesitantly explained, “Just… away from the city. It’s nice out here. Things feel… clearer? I think?”

“You do seem better," she observed.

In their time away from Bricksburg, Emmet's strange seizures had largely died down after they departed. But every so often, she'd catch him stopping to stare at one of them strangely. It took a moment for him to shake it off; every time it visibly disturbed him. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen him do it in a while. The last one she could recall was two stops ago, where he kept staring at a spot somewhere over Metalbeard's head. Since then, Emmet was practically back to his old self, discounting the issue of his newfound anxiety over his condition.

"It’s probably all the fresh air," Wyldstyle hazarded a guess, "City pollution probably isn’t doing you any favors.”

“Maybe," Emmet granted. He laughed dryly, "Maybe it’s why I’m going crazy too.”

Wyldstyle lightly shoved him.

“Don’t say that," she asserted with a half-hearted frown. She held her boyfriend's side tighter. "You’re not going crazy. You're just having some brain problems," she stared into his eyes as she spoke, "We’ll figure it out, don’t you worry.”

Emmet sighed, but with a smile tugging at his lips.

“Sure, brain problems…” he said in quiet contemplation.

She gave him a little shake of encouragement.

"Now c'mon, let's go look at the dumb souvenirs," she said, gently tugging him by the waist to guide him through the exit curtains. He went along easily, keeping his steps even with hers. She grinned at him, "And if it makes you feel better, I'll get you something with a raccoon on it."

Emmet's laugh was well worth it.


	6. Seizure Bricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emmet gets a headache.

Emmet had his doubts if the weird little tourist trap's gift shop would bear any trinkets that were raccoon related. But if there were, he'd be more than happy if Lucy got it for him. He was starting to find the little creatures rather adorable.

But 'Gun Raccoon' was a little too much to be considered cute. As funny as it was, he wasn't sure he wanted to be reminded of that boggle-eyed thing.

As he and Lucy stepped out into a brighter room that featured racks of tacky souvenirs, he took a look around and found most of their friends milling by the red curtains. Unikitty and Benny had already wandered off into the shop itself. Bruce, Metalbeard, and BC were talking amongst themselves, though BC was only half paying attention. The other half was keeping an eye on Benny, much like a watchful guard dog would.

Metalbeard glanced up at that moment and broke out into a gold-toothed grin at the sight of them.

"Thar ye be!" the large man exclaimed, sweeping his prosthetic arms open at Emmet's appearance.

Bruce and BC turned to the two and Emmet noticed an edge in their stances soften. A twinge of guilt made him realize they'd been worried. Or rather, more actively worried about him than usual. Still. He tried visibly relaxing to make them feel more at ease.

"Hey guys!" Emmet waved cheerfully as he and Lucy came up, "You have fun?"

BC took a moment to calmly appraise him before snorting loudly.

"Fun? In _this_ madhouse?" he countered sardonically. Scoffing, he turned away in distaste, "Only fun these clowns wanted was getting _banned_."

The sunglasses came up.

"Oh c'mon now," GC admonished playfully. "When have we ever been banned from a thing? Why not live a little? It'd be kind of funny."

Emmet uncertainly glanced between all of them.

"…What did you guys do?" he asked slowly.

"Nothing," Lucy smiled innocently. He raised an eyebrow as she continued, "Mr. Mystery just hates us forever and ever. That's all."

Emmet opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about, but stopped short, thinking carefully before deciding he probably didn't want to know.

Not like he would have been able to ask anyways as a mechanical whir was his only warning before a heavy peg leg stomped up to him. He looked up at Metalbeard just as a jointed, plastic hand lightly knocked against his chest.

"Could ask you th' same lad! What 'appened to yeh?" the silvery-bearded man asked gruffly, his one eye narrowing with a frown.

While Emmet knew Metalbeard was only worried, he couldn't helping gulping nervously as the larger man towered over him. Much to his relief, Lucy had him covered.

"He got hypnotized by some of the awful taxidermy," she answered, her arm tightening around his waist as she leaned against him. "Turns out two of them are mortal enemies."

She was rewarded with blank stares.

"What," Bruce said flatly.

"Well, they just look like it. The raccoon and the- um- here," Emmet hesitantly explained. Lucy released him from her hold to give him some room, allowing him to search for his phone. Once he found it, he pulled up the image and displayed the device, "See? I took a picture."

The three men leaned over as one to examine the photo.

Metalbeard let out a great guffaw, "Y'seem t' be correct!"

"That is just delightful," GC said distractedly, taking the phone into his own hands and sliding his fingers on the touchscreen to zoom in on the scene. His scarred face lit up with a little grin. Metalbeard leaned in and the two began going through the rest of his pictures.

Bruce turned to Emmet with a sour look.

"This is what you disappeared for?" he asked, unimpressed.

Emmet's face fell. In a quieter voice, he tried to not sound sulky, "I thought it was funny…"

"Eh, it's like a B minus on funny," the darker-dressed man judged, holding his hand out flat and shaking it in an 'iffy' gesture. He gave Emmet an unhappy glare, "I was afraid you ran off with the dumb idea in your head that you could actually find any of these stupid cryptids."

"How?" Emmet rolled his eyes. He gave Bruce an insulted pout. "None of them are real. I can see the staples."

Bruce's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. "What's this?!" he gasped like a dumbfounded child. Putting his hands to his cheeks, he stared at his friend in theatrical disbelief, his every word dripping in sarcasm, "Emmet isn't _completely_ gullible?! When did _this_ happen??"

Emmet stared at him, first in confusion, then with aggravation.

"Hah," he said dryly. Emmet knew himself well enough to admit that he wasn't really the brightest person out there. But even _he_ wasn't so dumb as to fall for 'The Sascrotch'. Perhaps if he hadn't spent as much time with his friends as he did, he might have believed it.

As if reading his thoughts, Bruce straightened up, smirking, "C'mon, Brickowski. You know you'd have fallen for it hook, line, and sinker if we weren't here."

Emmet scowled at him. Perhaps if he were in the mood, he might have tried teasing Bruce back. But today was not that day. So if Bruce wanted to be immature about things, Emmet could be too.

"Lucyyy~ Bruce is being mean," Emmet whined like a grade-schooler, shaking his girlfriend by the shoulder.

"You're both very pretty," Lucy said, without looking at either of them from her examination of the souvenirs. Bruce straightened up proudly at her words while Emmet just felt chagrined. With an annoyed sigh, Emmet tugged at Lucy's arm to get her to walk further into the store with him. She gave him a concerned frown, but went with him anyways.

Times like these made him question his friendships.

Bruce was his friend. That much he was certain of.

But the proud man's teasing often left Emmet so completely fed up with him, he wondered why he even bothered. Anything from his appearance to his abilities to his intelligence, Bruce was good at finding and poking at the little cracks he tried to keep under wraps. Emmet supposed he should have consoled himself that he wasn't the only one who got this treatment. But while Bruce also did this to their other friends, they could roll with it. Most times, Emmet was just left feeling hurt at the end.

Once he felt they were a fair distance away, he let go of Lucy's arm and turned to her anxiously.

"Sorry," Emmet apologized, head ducked in shame, "I just wanted to-"

"No, I get it," Lucy interrupted. She gave him a hug, softly speaking into his ear, "Don't let him get to you."

"Yeah," he sighed, hugging her back. This was not an unfamiliar conversation. "I'm trying."

She made a short laugh, "Easier said than done. I know. You'll get there."

With an encouraging pat on the back, Lucy let go of him to start her own exploration. Emmet would have gone off on his own, but he didn’t want to be left alone at that moment. So he trailed after her like a lost puppy, looking around curiously as he went.

Everywhere he looked in the Mystery Shack, he could see the silly displays for what they were: creative, though poorly made gimmicks to draw in crowds. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. But he had to admit that the presentation was pretty stellar, enough to convince people for a little while they were looking at something otherworldly.

Not that it was enough for him and his friends. So they made up for it by making fun of it all.

A fair number were hilarious on their own. The Six-Pack-A'Lope had him and Lucy crying with laughter, while the strung up glasses and bowler hat claiming to be an Invisible Man was mercilessly poked.

Unikitty and Benny had been far less subtle in their riffing, often asking ridiculous questions when the opportunity presented itself. It was enough to give Mr. Mystery a run for his money.

(“Is it a face?” 

“No, it only looks like a face.”

“But it looks like a rock.”

“That’s because it is a rock!”

“So that's the rock's face?”

“Uggghhhh…”)

But despite that, he enjoyed his time in this weird place. To be able to laugh at something with all his friends… He felt like he belonged. A feeling that still sometimes overwhelmed him from being alone for so long. Occasionally, he couldn't be sure if he was just dreaming everything up. It was almost enough for him to forget the strange events of that morning.

Almost.

Every time he spotted his own reflection, Emmet felt a cold shudder run through him. The strange coiled, nagging feeling which dogged his steps that whole morning knew something was terribly wrong with him but refused to tell him in any sensible way. And it was driving him up the wall.

Even when surrounded by friends, it persisted. It never took much to trigger it. Just the tilt of their face or the stride of their steps or the tone of their voice would be enough for the sense of wrongness to come flooding back.

Metalbeard should have been far bigger.

The Cops had never owned clip-ons.

Unikitty was completely shaped wrong.

Benny's feet stayed on the ground.

Bruce looked _normal_.

Not even Lucy was spared from the sense that something was off about her colors.

It barely made sense.

On one level, he knew his friends were just the way they had always been: a bunch of weirdos who cared deeply about each other. They were his family and they always would be.

But on another, his instincts screamed that something fundamental about everyone had been altered. Something so basic that not even he could see it clearly when he too was caught in its grip. How he even knew this was as much a mystery as what it even meant.

An elbow at his ribs nudged him from his thoughts and he turned to find Lucy there. She leaned in and he mirrored her.

"Does that look like a little kid to you?" she asked quietly, gesturing in the direction of the checkout counter.

Emmet looked over, finding Benny there talking to one of the cashiers. An alarmingly young cashier, perhaps just a kid or a pre-teen at most. He couldn't be sure, but they might have been a boy based on the look of the blue-and-white cap sitting on his head.

"The one at the register?" he asked. When she nodded, he continued, "Yeah, what about him?"

Lucy gave him a pointed look.

"Child labor is illegal," she stressed.

"Oh. Yeah…" he frowned. He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. "Well, maybe he's just hanging out here or something. It's summer break, right?"

"Maybe…" Lucy said, unconvinced. Her brows furrowed, "I'm gonna go ask the Cops to see what they know." Without waiting for a reply from him, she slipped away to look for their wandering friends.

Emmet sighed. Now that Lucy had gone off, he wasn't too sure what to do with himself. Picking through the souvenirs was an option he would have gone for on any other day. But for once, he wasn't in the mood to shop for trinkets. He would much rather find answers to his ongoing… 'brain problems'… as Lucy put it. At the very least, he wanted to find better wording than 'feeling wrong'.

He happened to glance over at Benny again. Emmet was surprised to find him now deep in negotiation with an unfamiliar girl and Mr. Mystery for some sort of spaceship-looking toy.

He would have thought nothing of it.

But something…

Something was up with that little spaceship.

Emmet found his focus slowly being drawn to the little toy. It was a blocky thing, made up of little plastic bricks in mismatched colors and improvised pieces. Care had been put into its construction, but he had the impression the toy wasn't made of the sturdiest of materials. Honestly, it looked like a simple fall could break it into bits. But something in him told him that was the point, that it could be taken apart and reassembled however one chose. That was the fun of it.

He shook his head, confused. Where had _that_ come from?

He was positive he'd never encountered the little construction blocks like that before in his life. But they felt familiar. Like he'd intimately understood them at one point. He felt like he was onto something when-

" _ **Agh!**_ "

Sharp pain that could only be described as an ice pick driving straight through the skull struck him hard and fast.

Emmet barely caught himself with a shaking arm against the wall as he panted, bringing a hand up to his aching head. His ears rang. Cold sweat began to form on his temples. His vision doubled. He felt faint. He tried to shrug it off. It began fading after a moment but the pain still pulsed insistently.

That hadn't happened before.

It hadn't hurt before.

Just disorientation.

Why did it hurt??

Pushing through the fatigue, Emmet slowly straightened up. He carefully let go of the wall, hoping he could stand upright long enough. Though his legs wobbled, he precariously kept his balance. A stiff wind could easily knock him over at this rate. It would have to do for now.

With the pain retreating, he tried to understand where it had come from.

What had he been doing?

He was just watching Benny do his thing.

The man loved his spaceships, no matter how hokey-looking they got, a result of turning his passion into his job he supposed. Even simple paper models could enrapture him, never mind ones made of sturdier material like those little brick-

Pain spiked.

Heavily falling back against the wall, it was all he could do to not cry out through gritted teeth. He shut his eyes hard enough for tears to form at the corners. Clutching his face, he took fast, shallow breaths through his fingers, trying to hang on for dear life.

What was wrong with him?!

Why couldn't he do anything about those… _things?!_

They were just little toy blocks! What was he looking at? Seizure bricks??

New stabbing pains in his head sent him reeling. Sweat trailed down the side of his face, his eyes wide open.

He trembled.

The room spun.

He felt sick.

He had to get out.

Groaning, he rudely shoved his way past people, not even bothering to apologize. Hopefully they'd understand. He only made it so far before a hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him towards its owner.

"Babe, you look like you're going to pass out!" Lucy said, eyes wide with alarm. She held him at arms length, more in trying to support him than keep him in place. Emmet nodded quickly.

"Uh, I-I should get back to the RV…" his voice wavered. He sounded weak, even to himself.

"You need help?" she asked.

He shook his head, swallowing thickly. No use worrying her. This would fade like the others. It had to.

"I think I've got it. Thanks though," he managed to get out. Lucy let him go, patting him gently on the back.

He went without another word.

His plan was simple. Just to go straight to the RV. No dawdling, no distractions. If he got too bad before getting to the vehicle, he could sit on the nearby picnic benches until he felt better enough to get into it. Then take painkillers. A lot of painkillers. Well, not more than the recommended dose, so only a few painkillers, but that usually did the trick.

It was supposed to be easy.

But when was _his_ life ever easy?

He was nearing the door when something caught his eye.

His breath caught in his throat.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Time screeched to a halt.

Surroundings faded out.

Sound muffled.

Pain dulled.

He stared at it, uncomprehending, unable to pull away.

It was something…

He already…

 _Knew_ …

His legs began moving. His wide eyes never strayed, locked on to its target.

Heartbeat pounding in his ears; breath unbearably loud.

The universe narrowed down to him and the thing.

Automatically, he reached out, plucking the offending object right out of a child's hand and brought it up for closer inspection. He didn't even hear them shouting in protest.

He was too busy trying to comprehend…

A toy.

Just a plastic figure, maybe only an inch tall. Part of it had been painted over into a grumpy face, but that didn't matter. Its face was simple, eyes and mouth just two dots and a line, no nose or ears, basics. Done up in common yellow, perhaps an attempt at a raceless tone. A stacked assembly: head, then torso, then legs. The torso bore arms on the upper half, little more than sticks that rotated. Rounded claws stood in for hands, stuck into the hollow arms. Clothing was painted on, a hat went on top of the head.

Such a simple figure…

He had never seen it before, yet he recognized it.

 _No_.

He didn't just recognize it, he understood it on a deep, _personal_ level.

He understood every surface, every facet, every capability, every shortcoming, every possibility, every limit, e _v E R **Y T H I N G**_

"Emmet?" a distant Lucy questioned.

A click of bricks snapped into place.

Suddenly he wasn't holding a toy, but himself, but as the toy in his own hands and as the toy he saw himself but as a person holding himself as a toy being held by a great yellow claw that was his as he held himself as a person in the claw of a himself as a toy big enough to hold his tiny person self like a toy only the giant toy was held by an even bigger hand of himself as a person and he was the toy and the toy was him and they were one butnotthesamebutareflectionarefractionanechotwopartsofawholeorwasitalwayswholeandheneversawcouldnotseeincapableofseeinghimselfwhowasatoywhowasapersonwasheatoyorwashea _personamiatoyoramiapersonamiatoyoramiapersonamiatoyoramiaperson_

_**A̶͙͙̹̫͇̳̠͖͎ͤͫ ͨ̏̋̇̍͛͋͏̴̡̖͔͔̥̝Mͥ̄͞҉̘̙̻̗͇̫̱ͅ ̸̨̖͚̦̯̞̺̱̉̍̊͑̅I̷͓͖̝̞͖̓̓̏ ̳̟̮̘͉̞̬ͪͨ͊͘Ȧ̢̢̦̱̬̱̂͒ ̴̨̟̠̲͆̈́ͣͫ̐ͦ͝T̼̗̾ͭ̓̓͆ͪͤͮ͞͞ ͚͙͔̯̘̙̐̽̎͟O̊̊̂ͦ҉̙̝̰͈̬̬̹ͅ ̌̂̋ͩ̈́̊҉̧̩͔͓̩̪͕Y͉̲̋̃̑ͥ̄͗̇̌̈ ̴̱͇̥ͯ̐̾ͩ̌̈́̚͝Ó̫̑ͭ͑͘ ͫͦͯͭ͋ͩ̊̓҉̬͙̖̹͎̜͟ͅR̴͓̣̮̫͚͉̲̿̾̂ͫ̇͝ ̬̪̻̲̫̈́͌͗͛̿̇͢Ā̛̔͂͑̓̒͛ͤ͏̰ ̰͉͙̰̖̼͚͔̑M̸̪̝͕̗͉͐ ̛͇͙̦͙̝͖̻̪̋̅͜͢I̸̢͚̻̥̤͖̦ͤ͋ͤ̈̐̓̌̋͟ͅ ͈̜̯̺̝͔̘͛͡Â̴̧̨̱̹̭̮ͤͪ͌̾ ̴̰̰̟ͤ̽̀ͣ̀ͥ͛͛P̡̖͔͎̝͉̱͇͚͊̐͌͂̏̈́͐̕ ͎̃̏͘E͖̮̬̠̔ͦ̓̎ͤ́̏ͯ ̗̦͓̗͈̫̺̄ͪͨ̐̄ͮR̷̫̝̳̬̬̭̱̹̣̈́͐̅̿ͤ̏͛ ̛͉̜̄ͤ̆ͪ̾̎̓S̤̪̹̤̣̏͌̔̔ͫͫ̋̃͝ ̜̹̫̼͂ͩͬ̈́̉ͨ͟͢͜O̘̞̠ͣ̑ͤͧͭͮ̓ͪ̕ ̻͙͉̭̖̤̲ͯͥ̌͗ͦͦ̕N͕͎̳̆̅̎ͨ̃ͧ͊̚ ̶̠̝̀̀̍͌͟A̲̙̜͎̜̥͋͒ͥͨͥ͒ ͧ̏̎͘҉̻̩͓̪M̥̓̆̓͢ ̜͎ͩ̀͝I̷̛̺͉̬̫͊͘ ̛̛̼͎̱̳̞ͣ̽A̛̬͈̬̗̹̰̮̘̐ͤͩ͑̈́̕ ̨̹ͩ͊̿͊Ţ̯͒̍̄̀̾̓ͮͪ̓͞ ̤͔̹̯̱̤ͮ̽ͥ̓̾ͦO̦͕̞͕͍̝̩̝̿͟͡ ̰̟̺ͧ̊͂̅̈́̂Y̵̸̷̼̝̗͙̲̠̰͂ͦ̒̿ ̷̺͈̮̮̬̳̖ͪ͒̇̚͟O̳̖͈̩͚ͧͨͦ͌͘ ̡̳͔̬̂̈͊̓̓̈̔̋ͮ͟R̢̻͓̜̼̮̜ͭͩͫͥ͋͐ͧ̏̒ ̇̒ͤ͏̖̱͘͝A̸̮̬̪̜̲̝͈͊̑̐̇͂̊̽͞͞ ̹̟̻̜̗͔̖̝̰̌̇͜M̶̢̧͔̮͇͉̰̻̘̍̃ͧͩ͑ͅ ̨̼̮̂̈͗ͦ͗̉ͅĨ͚̝̥ͭ̾ͬ͠ ͉͇̲̱̞̩̙̹̱̇̋ͧ̐̓̔͜A̢̡̲̦̹͚̺̗̝͖̰ͥ ͕̥̺̟ͮ̒ͪ̒̆̈͡P̛ͣ͛̾͌̊͏͎̘̣͕̲̖̺͉ ̻̅ͪ̎ͧ̾̕E̛͙̦̹̠͓ͧͭ̎͞ ̛͈̪̩͖͆ͤ̋͐ͣ̈́ͦ̍͝R̷̛̮̪͔̖̟͈̱̯ͧ̊ͦ̋̄̓̒̐̕ ͯͧ̄̓͛͒̊ͦ͏̩̼͈̗͔̠̘̭S̨̩̯͔͇̦̮͈̲ͤ̑̈͆ͥ̋͊ͫ̋͟ ͚̜͈̫̎͒ͪͯ̌͊̽̂͢O̢̠͍ͦ̆ͮ̆ͧ͆̓̉ ̢͎͖͚͎ͨ̑̓̓̈́͊̐͢Ṇ̵͖͚̝͐̔͊̉̕͡** _

 

His vision blurred and he thought he heard the dull thump of a body hitting the ground before he faded away.


	7. On the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the paramedics are not called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's my birthday! So here's a present from me to you!
> 
> ...That's how presents work, right?

Everyone in the gift shop stared in stunned silence at the scene before them.

The man who had stolen Dipper's Lego double now lay sprawled out on the ground, having inexplicably lost consciousness. There was no indication that he would be getting back up anytime soon.

The first real thought to enter Dipper’s mind was to count himself lucky that the man fell _away_ from him rather than _on top_ of him. But the moment he thought this, a slap of guilt reminded him there was nothing fortunate about the situation at all. He just broke someone by waving around a simple toy! How did that happen?? Even more unfortunately, it also made him the one person closest to the man in a position to help. Worse yet, he couldn’t do much anyways because the boy's CPR pool training hadn't really covered what to do when water was _not_ involved.

"Uh… Help…?" he squeaked.

" _Emmet!_ "

Shoving her way past other customers, the man’s ladyfriend dropped to his side and carefully checked him over. As she felt at his neck, the rest of their group snapped out of their collective shock and crowded around the couple to help. Most of them looked just as freaked out as Dipper felt.

While this went on, Mabel raced to his side to see just what had happened. She stared at the scene, stunned. For once, it seemed like she was at a loss for words. Dipper looked askance at her.

"Mabel, what did you put on those Legos?" he asked cautiously.

Mabel gave him a confused look, "Whaddya mean? I only used my regular paints on them! And they’re all non-toxic!"

Dipper frowned skeptically, “I _think_ I'm gonna have to take a closer look at those…”

Before they could say anything else, the woman finished her assessment.

"He's still breathing," she announced and there was an audible relieved sigh from the others.

Dipper relaxed as well, letting out the breath that he’d been holding in. Thank goodness he hadn't inadvertently killed someone!

Grunkle Stan had an entirely different approach to this news.

"Aw-! That's just great! Of course one a' you passes out!" he scowled, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. Jabbing an accusing finger at the group, Stan growled, "I’ll have you know that I’m _not_ taking _any_ responsibility for this!"

At this, half the group turned to glare thunderously at him while the other half just boggled at him, mouths agape. Stan belatedly realized that he may have misread things and quickly backtracked.

"Eh- W-What I meant to say was: 'Good! Then this ain’t an emergency!'" Stan chuckled, tugging at his collar nervously. "In fact, I'm so glad it's not an emergency, that we can just put your friend to the side to recover and not call in the police or any other authorities! On the house!"

The offer was met with odd looks, but the policeman-looking guy of the group raised his lip in disgust. "You'd _charge_ for basic first aid?" he demanded menacingly. Dipper could reasonably guess that he was glaring daggers from behind his sunglasses.

"Hey, I gotta make a living somehow," Stan brazenly fired back.

The man scowled and looked like he was going to tell off Grunkle Stan, but the small unicorn-cat princess girl tugged at his sleeve with a reproachful look. He glanced back at the girl, thought for a moment, then sighed and backed down.

Snorting derisively (and not without a hint of smugness) Stan turned to the 'Employees Only' door and bellowed, "Soos! Get over here! I got body I need you to lift!"

A series of heavy footsteps heralded Soos's arrival as he ducked his head in from the living room, eyes wide. "A body?!" he cried, bewildered, "Did-did someone die? _Here?_ In the _Mystery Shack??_ " He stepped out, wringing his hands nervously as his eyes darted back and forth, sweat already starting to run down his brow. He looked around, almost afraid of what he might see. "Oh no! Does that mean the Shack's gonna be _haunted_ now??"

"He's passed out, not dead!" the woman snapped irately.

"Oh! Oh, phew!" Soos sagged on his feet, relief palpable, "I don't what I'd do if a customer's ghost started haunting us! Here, lemme get him for ya."

He made his way over to pick up the comatose man, but the woman waved him off. Instead, she slipped the man's arm over her shoulder and wrapped an arm around his torso. She grunted as she bodily hauled him up.

"It's fine," she told Soos without a hint of strain, "Just show me where to go."

"Back porch couch!" Stan shouted.

"Here, I'll show you," Dipper volunteered, waving her over. It was the least he could do after flailing around a toy that apparently made people faint.

The lady blinked and turned to him uncertainly. She seemed caught off guard by his offer, but her gaze quickly softened and she nodded at him. Adjusting her grip on her passenger, she made her way over without further comment. Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, Dipper wondered if she knew what he’d done. Gulping nervously, he hoped she wasn’t too angry at him as he moved to hold open the door for her.

As the two made their way through, Dipper gave Soos a pleading look, a silent request. The large man caught on and smiled, giving him a thumbs up. Dipper smiled back, grateful that Soos could take over for him in the shop. With that, the boy slipped out the door to lead on the two tourists.

As the three of them trekked across the living room, Dipper found the house rather quiet. This was to be expected, seeing as how all the other residents were either in the gift shop or deep underground. It made everything seem deceptively peaceful. Hazarding a glance over his shoulder, he found the lady looking around with mild curiosity. He caught her eyes lingering on the dinosaur skull side table as she smiled in approval. If she thought it strange that the Shack was connected to a home, she didn't bother to bring it up.

Once they got to the Shack’s back entrance, Dipper opened the door for her and ushered her out. She only made it a few steps before she suddenly stopped short.

“Is something-?” he began, until his eyes followed her line of sight to the couch, “Oh.”

Though he had gotten used it, the couch was an old worn out thing. There were a few noticeable tears in the upholstery, some of which had been patched while others were left to flap in the breeze. One hole even sported a loose spring. But the most offensive aspect of the seat was the lively community of moss and grass had taken up residence on its surface. And underneath that? Who knew what kind of things lived in the stuffing.

“That is disgusting,” the woman protested.

“I’m sorry,” Dipper shrugged helplessly, “I’d offer something else, but that’s all we really have.” If he could, he would have offered one of the beds in the house. But seeing as how these people were strangers, that didn’t seem right either. As he tried to think of an alternative solution, the lady made her own decision.

With a resigned sigh, she gingerly deposited her boyfriend onto the couch, gently laying his lolling head against the armrest before securing his limbs. Once she made sure his circulation was unimpeded, she shrugged off her jacket and draped it over the unconscious body as a makeshift blanket. Adjusting her magenta tank top, she then turned to sink heavily into the couch with a tired groan. Burying her face in her hands, she set her elbows against her knees and sat there in silence. She did not seem intent on moving.

Dipper took the opportunity to peek over the sofa to see for himself what kind of shape the guy was in. The man's brown skin carried a faintly ashen tint, but a warm pinkness seemed to be slowly seeping back into his cheeks. Nothing moved aside from the gentle rise and fall of his breathing chest. He could almost mistake the man as simply taking a nap.

"Is he gonna be OK?" he hesitantly asked, unable to help himself.

The woman jumped and turned to him, strands of loose hair covering her right eye, leaving a pale brown left eye to widen, surprised that he was still there. But she didn't shoo him away. Instead, she sighed wearily, weight audible in her voice.

"I wish I knew," she told him, sounding a bit lost herself. She felt at the man's forehead, "I _thought_ he was doing alright, but then _this_ happens."

Compared to what he'd seen back in the gift shop, the worry of the past few minutes seemed to have instantly aged her a few years. Even he could see the underlying levels of stress in her frenetic movements as she carefully straightened out her boyfriend's mussed hair. The two had to have been very close. She must have noticed him watching and glanced in his direction.

"Thanks for letting him rest here," she said, her smile small but genuinely grateful. "I'm really sorry for all the trouble. I promise we'll get out of your hair soon."

“Ah, it’s no big deal," Dipper reassured her with a smile, “We’ve had worse. At least a full SWAT team didn't raid the house again."

This time, the lady whipped back to fully face him, her stare wide. He could see her working her mouth, attempting to form words, but she could have just as easily been miming a fish. Perhaps that was too much to tell a complete stranger… The woman then shook her head, as if to clear it, before regaining her speech.

“You mean… that's _happened_ ,” she stated flatly.

Dipper chuckled, scratching the back of his neck with a grimace, “Yeah… That was a crazy day.”

The woman continued to stare at him until she broke down laughing in disbelief. “Oh my gosh, you poor thing!” she exclaimed in sympathy. Dumbfounded, she asked, “What would they even raid you for?”

“It’s a long story,” Dipper tried brushing it off, “But it’s not a big deal. I’ve had much weirder things happen.”

“Yeah?” she raised an eyebrow, giving him a probing look, “You mean like how it’s weird that a kid your age is working here?”

Dipper blinked at her. This wasn’t the first time he’d been asked that question. Usually it came from the more patronizing adult customers when he rang them up, who tended to regard him as being too young to handle their money. Sometimes they’d even demand someone older take over, despite the fact that he was literally the best at math out of all the Shack’s employees. But the way the lady asked sounded like it came from a place of concern. She even looked the part, her brow creased with lips pressed into a thin line. It gave him the impression of a worried bystander that had stumbled upon a bad situation and wanted to help. Which was nice in its own weird way, though he wasn’t sure what there was to be worried about.

“Oh, well. I’m only working here because we’re family,” Dipper explained hesitantly. “My Grunkle Stan is the one running this place.”

The woman tilted her head, perplexed.

“…‘Grunkle’?” she asked, testing out the word.

“Great-uncle, sorry,” he quickly elaborated.

She hummed thoughtfully, brows furrowed. She tapped her chin pensively, “Well, I guess that’s not technically illegal.”

This time Dipper was the one raising an eyebrow. She caught his expression and sheepishly waved him off.

“Never mind,” she chuckled, relaxing a little, “I’m probably sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Dipper wasn’t sure how to respond. As he puzzled it over, a lull settled over the two of them. Both parties looked out into the dense forest that surrounded them, listening to the sounds of nature. Though they were strangers, there was an odd, but not unwelcome, sense of ease to be found in each other’s presence.

Eventually, the boy cleared his throat, catching the lady’s attention.

"I'm Dipper, by the way," he shyly introduced himself, holding out his hand. It seemed the polite thing to do after talking for so long. The woman considered him for a moment, before reaching out to shake Dipper's hand with a small smile.

"You can call me Wyldstyle," she told him. Dipper gave her a funny look.

"' _Wyldstyle_ '?" he asked skeptically. She looked him square in the eyes.

"' _Dipper'_?" she asked, mimicking his tone. He blushed and chuckled awkwardly.

"OK, you got me there," Dipper conceded.

He braced himself for more teasing until Wyldstyle laughed with ease. “No, no, you’re right, I know how it sounds. And no, that’s not my DJ name.”

This time, a genuine laugh escaped Dipper. Wyldstyle grinned back at him, her eyes shining in mirth. That smile dimmed as she glanced to her side at the still unconscious man.

"And Sleeping Dork here is Emmet," she said wryly, patting the man on his leg. "I'm sure he'd say it's awesome to meet you, but looks like that’s not happening today." Dipper observed as Wyldstyle leaned over to lightly slap at the man’s face, murmuring at him to wake up already. She carefully watched him for a reaction, but none was forthcoming. He was still out cold. She sighed in frustration.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" he tentatively asked.

"No idea," Wyldstyle admitted sadly. She poked at Emmet’s head, "If he takes too much longer, I'm definitely calling an ambulance. I told him I didn't want it to come to this, but look where we are now."

The scene twinged at the sense of guilt had been gnawing at Dipper since Emmet’s collapse. The more he watched Wyldstyle fret over her boyfriend, the worse he felt. He frowned.

None of this would have happened if he’d just been a little more careful.

He didn’t need to hold out the toy, but he’d done it anyways. And apparently it was enough to trigger some kind of fainting episode in a random bystander. While that couldn’t possibly have been anticipated, it didn’t change the fact that it still happened. Someone passed out because of him.

“I’m sorry,” Dipper apologized suddenly, “I think this might be my fault.”

“ _You?_ ” Wyldstyle asked sharply, staring at him incredulously, “What did _you_ do?”

He winced. She didn’t believe him. Or rather, she didn’t believe he’d done anything. Dipper took in a shaky breath and began to recount the sequence of events as they played out from his perspective. As he finished with Emmet passing out, he found Wyldstyle deep in contemplation.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said, puzzled. She pointed at him, “You held up a toy,” she then jerked a thumb at their unconscious third party, “And then Emmet stole it from you.”

“And then he passed out!” Dipper cried out, throwing up his arms helplessly. He groaned anxiously, tugging at his cap, “I don’t know what I did! I would have been more careful if-“

“Dipper, you stop right there,” Wyldstyle interrupted, sudden steel in her voice giving him pause. In one smooth movement, she got up from the couch to kneel in front of the boy, leveling her fierce gaze with his anxious one. “I might not know what happened, but I know for a fact that you have _zero_ blame in this,” she firmly told him. “Even if you did somehow do something, you didn’t mean to. Really, from the sound of it, Emmet brought this on himself.”

The boy gave her a small smile, which she returned in greater force. He was starting to like Wyldstyle. She barely knew him and yet here she was aggressively assuring him he wasn’t at fault for this mess. It still didn’t change the fact that he’d indirectly made someone faint. But if the victim’s girlfriend didn’t blame him, then perhaps he shouldn’t feel so bad.

But her smile faded slightly as she sat back on her legs. She grew pensive. “Even then, that sounds weird for him. If he really wanted to see it, I _know_ he would have just asked.”

“I don’t know if he could. He looked really spaced out,” Dipper pointed out. “Kinda like,” he made a quiet ’cuckoo-cuckoo’ noise while twirling pointed fingers at the sides of his head, eyes crossed for extra emphasis.

She snorted with a roll of her eyes, “Tell me about it. He’s been doing that all day.”

“All day?” he asked, surprised, “Really?”

Wyldstyle pressed her lips into a frown, “Well, not constantly. There’s just these quick seconds where he does,” she vaguely gestured while crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue, “That. But he always got over them. What was different about-?” She suddenly stopped short. Visibly cringing, she looked at Dipper apologetically, “I'm so sorry, I must be taking up all your time. You've probably got better things to do.”

“What? No, not really!” Dipper insisted, shaking his head. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the shop, “The Shack’s closing soon. And, I want to help if I can.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” Wyldstyle smiled at him. It took her a few moments to consider her options before turning to him. “Now that I think about it… Dipper, would you mind showing me the little toy Emmet took from you?”

“Yeah, sure!” he perked up. He pointed back in the direction they’d come from, “I think it’s still on the floor. Just wait here for a bit.”

“I’ll come with you,” Wyldstyle offered as she rose to her feet. She wearily gestured to Emmet, “Looks like he's going to be out for a while.”

Indeed, Emmet hadn’t moved at all from where she set him. Nor had he shown any signs of waking up in all that time. Based on how long he’d been out, it was entirely possible the paramedics would have to be called before the day was over. The only positive that could be noted was that his skin color had returned to a healthier shade, now far less gray than he had been.

“If you want to, I won’t stop you,” Dipper shrugged amiably.

“Cool,” she nodded, “Just give me a sec.”

Wyldstyle knelt at Emmet’s side. She gently cupped his face and spoke to him in a low, soft voice, “Hey, I’m going to leave for a bit. Just hang tight and try not freak out if you wake up before I get back. You'll be fine. OK, babe?” She planted a quick kiss on his lips before pressing her forehead to his. With that, she stood up and followed Dipper back inside.

It wasn’t long before they were at the ‘Employees Only’ door again. But just as Dipper reached for it, the door burst open on him. Shouting in dismay, he was nearly bowled over by a pink and brown blur shoving its way past him.

"'Scuse me!" the blur belatedly called out.

"Mabel!" Dipper angrily shouted.

By then, it was too late. She was already out the room and thundering up the stairs. He let out a long-suffering sigh.

What had gotten into her this time?

Wyldstyle gave him a sidelong glance.

"Mabel’s my sister,” Dipper flatly told her.

The woman smirked, “She seems like fun.”

"Sure, if you like having music blasted at you while you're trying to sleep,” he scoffed as he pulled open the door.

Upon reentering the gift shop, Dipper found it to be devoid of customers. He spotted a grumpy Wendy restocking shelves and Soos adjusting one of the light fixtures. Grunkle Stan was at the register, wearing a smug, self-satisfied look as he counted out the money in the till.

Wyldstyle’s friends were nowhere to be seen.

Dipper glanced about, confused, “Grunkle Stan? Where’d everyone go?”

“Shack’s closed,” Stan waved flippantly, “Booted out the carnies too while I was at it.”

“You did _what?_ ” Wyldstyle demanded crossly, folding her arms over her chest.

“Easy, easy,” the older man scowled back, patting the air in a ‘calm down’ motion. He pointed outside. “Your circus trailer’s still here. Still takin’ up space in my parking lot,” he growled, clearly despising this fact. He stopped short, realizing something. His eyes narrowed in thought, “Which is a real nice trailer now that I think about it. Can carnies afford something that nice? No way. It’s gotta be stolen…”

While Wyldstyle shook her head at Stan’s ramblings, Dipper ignored him in favor of searching the spot where Emmet collapsed. The toy wasn’t anywhere obvious so he got on his hands and knees to peek into the little nooks and crannies between counters and souvenirs. But the more he searched, the more he began to doubt that the figure was still there.

“Any luck?” Wyldstyle asked, leaning over him to take a look for herself.

“No…” Dipper mumbled, wracking his mind for where the Lego could have gone. He stood up and peered over the counter, “Grunkle Stan, have you seen a little Lego figure around here?”

Stan snapped out of his thoughts of diabolical carnival schemes to give Dipper a funny look. “What, you mean the ones Mabel’s been messing with? Think she took ‘em outside to show those guys,” he said with a derisive sneer.

But Dipper disregarded that in favor of smacking his face at how obvious the answer was. Of course Mabel would have already retrieved it; she was the one who made it after all. Although, he wasn’t sure why Mabel felt the need to share the little blocks with Wyldstyle’s friends. But if Stan was right, her charging back inside was likely so she could grab more, since she would have taken out her downstairs stock first. Hopefully, that meant mini-Dipper was with the others.

“Guess I’ll be outside with the 'carnies' then,” Dipper sighed in resignation as he headed to the door.

“You watch out around them!” Stan shouted at the boy, leaning over the counter. “Don’t come cryin’ to me when they steal the shirt right off’a your back!”

Wyldstyle cleared her throat.

“I’m standing right here,” she grumbled pointedly.

“Not anymore you won’t,” an unimpressed Stan told her, whipping out a dust bunny clogged broom.

She only had a split second to comprehend what was going on before its bristled end whapped her on the head, a plume of dust erupting from the impact. With a startled yelp, Wyldstyle staggered back in a sneezing fit, trying to wave the dust from her watering eyes. She glared furiously at Stan, ready to yell at him only to get another face full of broom.

“Take that!” Stan laughed victoriously, “Now shoo! Shoo!”

Regaining her bearings, an incensed Wyldstyle smacked the broom aside with a growl and backpedaled out of Stan’s range, giving him the dirtiest look she had. Which was quite dirty now that she was covered in a fine layer of dust.

“ _Oh my god, what is_ wrong _with you?!_ ” she spat. Turning sharply on her heel, she stormed off in a huff.

“And stay out ya carnie!” Stan yelled, menacingly waving the broom at her retreating back.

Wendy happened to be near the door as this happened and opened it in an act of foresight for the seething woman. The teen was also considerate enough back away so Wyldstyle could angrily slam the door shut. Her part done, Wendy gave Stan a disapproving glare.

Dipper gawked at the entire display, mouth agape in mortification.

“Grunkle Stan, what was that for?!” the boy turned to him, yelling incredulously.

“What?” Stan demanded, shrugging with the offending broom still in hand, “How else was I gonna get her to leave?”

“Ugghhh…” Dipper groaned, pulling at his face with his hands, “Nevermind…”

Darting out after Wyldstyle, he found that she hadn’t gone very far, only standing a few feet away from the shop entrance. He could hear her angrily muttering under her breath as she did her best to get the dust off her hair, unbinding her side ponytail and wildly shaking out the loose strands. The rest of her looked clean, though he could see a few spots she’d missed.

“Miss Wyldstyle?” he called out to her.

Upon hearing his voice, the woman spun around to face him indignantly. “OK, seriously, what’s wrong with him? Is he one of those belligerent senile people?” she fumed.

Dipper cringed. “I am sooo sorry,” he said in a tight voice, blushing from the sheer humiliation of it all. “He’s a crabby old jerk, but man I had no idea he had such a serious grudge against carnival people.”

Wyldstyle rolled her eyes, making a noise that sounded like an aggravated snort before yelling into the air, “ _I’m not a carnie! None of us are!_ ”

“I didn’t think you were,” Dipper acknowledged. He gave her a worried look. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she sniffed while tying her hair back up. She took a deep breath to calm herself and then gave him a dry smile. “Nothing but my pride. I’ll get over it. At least my friends will get a good laugh out of this.”

She nodded towards the parking lot and just as Grunkle Stan told him, Wyldstyle’s friends were all gathered at a table set up beside a massive RV. However, the five of them all seemed to be deeply engrossed in something. Dipper and Wyldstyle exchanged glances and made their way over together.

The pink, flouncy girl noticed them first and her eyes widened with a delighted sparkle. “Wyldstyle!” she called out excitedly, also catching the others’ attention. “Check it out! Mabel’s been showing us these neat little building blocks!”

Drawing up to the table, they indeed found a heap of Lego pieces, in all shapes, colors, and sizes. Dipper was hardly surprised by their presence. But he _was_ surprised by was the fact that the blocks hadn’t gone untouched.

In the time they’d been gone, Wyldstyle’s friends had all started making their own little blocky creations. None of them had gotten very far, but he got a rough idea of what they were aiming for. He spotted Mabel’s spaceship getting some new additions by Benny. One guy was hogging the black pieces for some kind of flat symbol thing. A large man (who Dipper would call a robot pirate if it wasn’t such an absurd statement) looked like he was building a boat. The girl in pink had settled for arranging the more colorful pieces into a chunky rainbow. Meanwhile the possibly-a-police-officer guy seemed satisfied with his small car, done in black-and-white police colors but no decals.

As soon as Benny noticed the two of them, he immediately put down his spaceship thing and looked at them expectantly, “Hey! How’s Emmet?”

With the focus back on their friend’s condition, the others collectively looked to Wyldstyle, eager for some news on the situation.

All she had to offer was a disappointed sigh, “Out cold from the looks of it. And I didn’t see any signs of him waking up soon.”

“Oh no!” the girl in pink squeaked, her cat ears pulling back in distress. The others didn’t bother hiding their unhappy reactions either, a dark cloud of moodiness settling over them.

“Wait, if he’s still out, what’re you doing here?” asked the man who had been solely using black Lego pieces. He looked puzzled at her presence.

Dipper chose this moment to cut in. “We came to check on something. Did Mabel leave a little mini-figure that sorta looks like me here?” he asked sheepishly. He then raised a hand in greeting, “I’m Dipper Pines, by the way.”

A round of “Hello”s and “Nice to meet you”s chorused from the assembled adults. All but one of them eyed him curiously, clearly wondering about him. Before any of them could ask him anything, the one person who hadn’t been examining him pulled something out from the pile of plastic.

“You'd be Mabel's brother then? Like so?” the Irish police guy asked, holding out mini-Dipper.

“Oh! Yeah! Thanks!” Dipper grinned. He accepted the figure and passed it to Wyldstyle, who delicately took it from him. He looked back at the scar-faced man, “And yeah, we're twins if you were wondering.”

The man nodded with a knowing smile, "I thought you might have been."

“So why _does_ it look like you?” Wyldstyle suddenly inquired. Dipper found her holding up the toy curiously, turning it this way and that.

He let out an embarrassed little chuckle, “Long story, but my sister’s imagination takes her to weird places.”

Wyldstyle snickered at his reply before continuing her inspection of the Lego figure: turning things about, fiddling with its limbs, curiously taking it apart and putting it back together again. She even cautiously sniffed at it, much to the other’s amusement. Eventually she shrugged and handed it back to Dipper. “It’s a neat toy, but I don’t see anything about it that could have triggered a fainting spell,” she reported, her brow creased in confusion.

“You sure? I’m almost positive this was it,” Dipper frowned. He’d hoped the toy might provide some answers, but it seemed that lead was a dead end to begin with.

“Let me see,” the black-piece guy requested, holding out his hand. Blinking, but seeing no reason not to, Dipper did so. He watched as the man’s eyes narrowed, intently giving it his own examination. The boy couldn’t be sure, but the man gave the impression he was practically looking at it from under a mental microscope. “Looks like a normal toy to me, but maybe I’m missing something,” the man concluded, turning the toy thoughtfully in his hand. His expression turned serious as he spoke to Dipper, “If you’d let me borrow it, I’ve got a lab back in Bricksburg that could run an analysis on it.”

“Bricksburg??” Dipper perked up. With his whole day being taken up by work, he'd been chafing to start researching the mysteriously appearing city. But to actually have some residents to interview meant there was a first-hand resource to start gleaning information from. He was ready to leap at the opportunity to ask about it, until he remembered the original question. Holding himself back, he cleared his throat, “Uh, you’d have to ask Mabel. It’s actually hers.”

“Huh. Guess I’ll have to wait on that,” the guy grunted, mildly annoyed. It was a look that quickly disappeared though. He nonchalantly shrugged and went back to work on his flat Lego creation, “Ah well.”

At the mention of Mabel, the large, bearded one of the group tapped his chin thoughtfully with a plastic finger, “That lassie seems to be takin’ awhiles.”

“She did say she had _a lot_ more where these came from,” Benny pointed out.

“Mabel probably got distracted by something,” Dipper quickly reassured them. Now that he had the chance, he asked as casually as he could, “So uh, you guys are from Bricksburg?”

Benny thought for a moment, “Well, we’re actually from all over, but yeah! That’s where we live!”

Murmurs of agreement arose from the group, most of them nodding along. Only some of them watched him warily, not sure where he was going with this.

Pulling out his pen and notepad, Dipper eagerly clicked at the pen, barely able to contain his excited grin, “In that case, while you guys are here, would you mind if I asked you a few questions about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: The next chapter might be up in two weeks instead of the usual one week. I ran out of buffer chapters. :/


	8. Hello to You and You and You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mabel makes some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the fucking fuck this should not have taken me four fucking months to write ;_;

With the fainting man’s ladyfriend carrying him off after Dipper, Mabel couldn’t help but watch them in worry. She’d been in the middle of speaking to her new friend, Benny, when her brother’s angry shouting caught her attention. Both she and Benny looked up in time to catch the fainter staring at her customized Lego mini-figure, practically hypnotized. Then the man suddenly crumpled to the ground without so much as a word. 

"Oooh~ I hope he's gonna be OK…" she fretted, raising sleeved hands to her face. 

"I sure hope so," Wendy said, looking put upon. "Last time a customer passed out, things got stupid.” 

"Really? What happened?" Mabel asked, eyes wide with curiosity. 

The teenager groaned, pinching the bridge of her freckled nose, eyes shut against the memory, "It's a long story, but it's why we're not allowed to sell scented candles anymore." 

"Candles?" 

"Stan made them with Stan-quality materials," Wendy explained, waving dismissively. "You can imagine how that would go." 

Mabel shuddered. She didn't have to imagine it. She'd witnessed the results of Stan's 'homemade' products first-hand. 

Speaking of, Stan was _done_ with the entire situation. 

“Alright, folks, nothin’ to see here! Everything’s taken care of!” Grunkle Stan announced to the other customers, most of whom had already shrugged off the fact that someone spontaneously fainted in their midst. He glanced around and seemed satisfied with the non-response. “Haha! Quality customer care! Right here!” 

Wendy scoffed loudly and received a well-aimed glare from Stan for it. She matched his glare with an unimpressed look and shot back, “Duck-scented candles.” 

Her boss’s face fell and he coughed uncomfortably. “J-Just get back to work, Wendy,” he grumped, walking away to tend to other shop matters. 

Mabel could barely hold back her laughter. “Duck-scented candles?? What does that even smell like?!” 

“Like a duck’s butt,” Wendy snorted. “They also came in, get this: burned waffles, swamp mud, and that weird old person smell. I’m not kidding, they were _so_ gross.” 

“Aw, c’mon Wendy,” Soos chided, joining the two girls at the counter. “It wasn’t a bad idea. Novelty scented candles are always good for gag gifts!” 

Wendy looked at him, flabbergasted. “Soos, the hazmat guys thought we were making biochemical weapons! They even had you quarantined, remember?!” 

He considered this and shrugged. “So Mr. Pines’s sense of smell isn’t what it used to be. Happens to the best of us.” 

Mabel had the feeling there was a bigger story here that no one was telling her. She’d have to ask later, because someone still owed her some hairstyling advice. 

Across the room was Benny, who had run off from their discussion of hair-shaving tips as soon as he got over the shock of seeing the fainting guy fall over. He’d pretty much bolted to his side, spot-checking the woman that was actually examining the guy. At the moment, he was talking to the group of people he’d come in with. All of them were visibly concerned, bordering on upset. 

She really hoped he hadn’t forgotten their talk, but with everything that transpired, she couldn’t blame him if he did. Figuring she ought to check in on him, Mabel took a step forward and immediately felt a familiar, though dulled pinch at the soles of her feet. She made a little squeak as she instinctively jumped back, startled by the hard pointy thing she’d put her weight on. 

There on the floor was little Lego Dipper, all but forgotten in the chaos. 

And she just stepped on it like a chump. 

Mabel laughed at herself, rolling her eyes. Of course there’d be a Lego right where she’d least expect one, practically waiting for her unsuspecting feet like a gator in the water. She smirked at the thought. At least this time, she’d outsmarted probability by wearing shoes! Shaking her head, Mabel retrieved the toy and held it up to her eyes, squinting at it carefully. It hadn’t sustained any damage from her stepping on it or its fall, which gave her one less thing to worry about. At the same time, there was that accusation Dipper had made about it… 

" _Was_ it the paint?" she asked the little figure. 

The toy offered no answers. 

Raising it to her nose, Mabel gave the Lego a few cautious sniffs before proceeding to give it a quick lick. Nothing in terms of smell or taste struck her as offensive, except for maybe the hint of shoe rubber. She doubted anything she'd done caused the guy to pass out. 

“Hey, Mabel? You still good to talk?” 

Startled out of her thoughts, Mabel looked up to find Benny making his way over to her. 

He hadn’t forgotten about their chat! 

Brightening, she stuffed the Lego in her pocket and raced up to him, bridging the gap between them. Benny gave her a weary smile. 

“Sorry about ditching you like that,” he apologized with no small degree of embarrassment. He glanced in the direction that Dipper and the couple had gone, “That guy who fainted is my friend. Not sure what’s up with him, but he’s been freaking us out all day.” He sighed and his youthful visage seemed to fade, looking perhaps a decade or two older than most would expect. 

Mabel felt no small amount of sympathy for Benny. “Really? What’s the matter with him?” 

“Good question,” he replied. A shadow seemed to pass over him as he confessed to her, “Personally, I didn’t think he should have come with us, but he seemed OK up until now.” Clicking his tongue, he leaned his head back, staring worriedly at the ceiling, “Jeez, maybe I ought to have said something sooner.” 

“Aww, don’t beat yourself up too much, Benny,” she comforted, giving him a pat on the arm, “You didn’t know this was gonna happen, right?” 

“No, but I’m usually pretty good at judging these things,” he said in frustration, now glaring at his feet. The glare softened and he gave Mabel a wry grin, “Heh, well, I guess I got lucky I was only wrong outside of work. Least no one would have died horribly.” 

Mabel narrowed her eyes as she gave him a careful look. “I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say that you’re… an EMT?” she tried. 

Benny burst out laughing. He ran a hand through his wild hair and supplied her with a wink, “Let’s just say my hairdo’s _little_ more on the nose than most people would think.” 

He subtly tilted his head, giving her a view of the little shaved in rocket ship on the back of his skull, its patch of bare scalp colored with red dye. Though on closer inspection, it may have actually been tattooed on. If it really was a tattoo, Benny was _hardcore_ dedicated to spaceships. But then that would mean… 

Mabel gasped loud enough for the entire room to hear, her eyes wide. “You’re an _astronaut?!_ ” 

“Got it in one!” Benny grinned, giving her double finger guns and a wink. 

Mabel squealed as she jumped up and down, now almost too excited for words. “Does that mean you’ve been to space?!” 

“Couple times!” he boasted. Benny leaned in, as if sharing in a little secret if his grin was anything to go off of, “And yes, zero gravity is as crazy awesome as you’d think.” 

But at the mention of zero gravity, Mabel’s mind immediately shot her back to events only a few weeks ago. She was still in the process of trying to work through that mess, which sometimes that came in the form of nightmares where she made the wrong choice. Where she doomed Ford to a lonely existence beyond the portal and utterly destroyed Stan in the process. The dreams haunted her even though she _knew_ the exact opposite had occurred. Perhaps if the situation hadn’t been so emotionally pitched, she might not have less than stellar associations with the phenomenon. 

Benny was looking at her in concern and she realized her face had fallen as soon as he said ‘zero gravity’. She scrambled to recalibrate herself and tried to laugh it off. 

“R-Really!” Mabel stuttered genially. She tugged at her sweater collar anxiously. “Heh, zero gravity. And floaty stuff… Yeah…” 

Benny laughed nervously, looking seriously caught off-balance. “Yeah? Sounds like you’ve had some bad experiences there. Somehow…” 

Mabel could only offer an awkward cough. Benny uncomfortably scratched the back of his neck. That conversation hadn’t gone where either of them had expected it to. And neither were sure how to recover from that. 

“Hey, Benny?” 

Benny started at the intrusion and spun around while Mabel leaned over to find the unicorn-cat princess girl making her way over, the plush ears on her headband swiveled backwards. She seemed a bit rattled and was looking to Benny with worried eyes. “You know a lot about body stuff, right? You think we're gonna have to- _OHMYGOSH! Your sweater is ADORABLE!!_ ” 

That was Mabel’s only warning before a starry-eyed and open-mouthed girl in a pink, sweet Lolita dress plopped before her, boggling at Mabel's sweater in pure adoration, a tiny squeaking gasp of joy escaping her lips while her false cat ears stood straight up. 

Mabel’s eyes widened as she took in the girl before her. While she still didn’t appreciate the unicorn component of her getup, she couldn’t deny the single most obvious aspect of said getup. 

" _My_ sweater?! _Your_ dress is AMAZING!" Mabel nearly shrieked, absolutely star-struck. 

“Really?!” the girl squeaked, clasping her hands in front of her, pleased as could be. “Thank you! I made it myself!” the girl positively glowed at the compliment. She stood back up, her clip-on, fluffy tail swishing with the movement as she displayed her dress with a flair and a wide toothy grin, “Awesome, huh?” 

“That’s crazy!” Mabel exclaimed. In turn, she proudly displayed her fairy cat princess sweater. “I made this too! It’s hand-knitted!” 

“WHAT,” the girl’s jaw dropped, eyes impossibly widening even more. She delicately traced gloved fingers over the felt design sewn onto the front. “That’s insane! You knitted this whole thing yourself??” she breathed in amazement. She locked eyes with Mabel and prostrated herself on the floor to give her a reverent bow, “I bow to you, oh mighty Goddess of the Stitch!” 

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short!” Mabel laughed. She gently tugged the new girl back onto her feet before flailing her loose sleeves wildly in the air, “If I’m Goddess of the Stitch, you gotta be the Goddess of the Sewing Machine!” Gesturing to the frilly dress, she shouted with wide eyes, “How’d you make all that?!” 

This time, it was Benny who coughed awkwardly. The two girls’ gazes snapped up to him and he gave them a wry grin. “Not to interrupt or anything, but I’ll just uh… I’ll write down those hair tips for ya. OK, Mabel?” 

Mabel blushed and realized just how throughly she had completely ignored him. She opened her mouth to apologize, but the older girl beat her to it. 

“Ohmygosh! I’m sorry Benny!” she squeaked. Her eyes widened and her cat ears twisted back in alarm. “I didn’t mean to get in your way!” 

Benny chuckled and waved her off, “Nah, it’s fine. Somehow, I had a sneaking feeling you two would get along like a house on fire. And like an actual fire, I don’t wanna get in the way of that.” He began walking away and gave them a playful grin, “I’ll be with the guys if you need me! You two have fun!” 

“Will do!” the older girl playfully saluted, then turned her attention back to Mabel. 

For a moment, there was a pregnant pause as their eyes met. The two girls exchanged meaningful glances. 

And as one, they broke out excitedly bouncing in place together, continuing their shrill squeeing over each other’s clothes. Wordlessly clasping each other’s hands, they spun and hopped in a small excited circle, like a miniature whirlwind of glee. 

It was quite the spectacle for the rest of the gift shop. 

By the time they stopped, both of them were out of breath, a bit disheveled, and laughing for all they were worth. Mabel hadn’t had so much instant fun with a stranger in quite a while! She wiped a tear of mirth from her eyes and stared at the older girl in wonder. This wonderful, shining star of joy might actually turn out to be her role model after all! 

“So what’s your name oh almighty Goddess of Sewing Machines?” she asked, beaming eagerly, “I’m Mabel!” 

As the dainty girl fixed her nearly-blue white ponytail, she made a squeak of surprise. She daintily covered her mouth with a gloved hand in mortification, “I haven’t even introduced myself yet, have I??” She tsked at herself, “Where are my manners?” 

Flourishing her wrists, the girl bent at the waist, deeply and formally bowing before a fascinated Mabel, regally declaring, 

“I am Princess Unikitty!” 

With an exaggerated whirl of her arms, she snapped back upright to give the younger a V-sign and cute anime heroine pose, her voice turning cheeky. 

“But you can just call me Unikitty!" 

Mabel’s wide eyes grew even wider, shining bright with awe, “ _WHOA!!_ Is that really your name??” 

The older girl giggled and chirped, “Yes, indeedy!” 

But she suddenly glanced from side to side, carefully checking her surroundings, her ears cocked at an angle. Leaning in secretively, she loudly whispered, "Actually, it's _Kitty Uni_. But no one needs to know that!” 

She winked knowingly at Mabel, who let out a snorting guffaw. 

A disgruntled grumble sounded from the other side of the room and Unikitty’s ears perked up before folding flat as her nose crinkled in a scowl, her chipper mood quickly evaporating. 

“What was that BC?!” she demanded sharply as she whirled on the offending party, planting her hands on her hips in a huff. 

“I said: we _all_ know that!" 

Tracing the source of the barking Irish shout, Mabel found a severe-faced man with clip-on sunglasses glaring at Unikitty distastefully. Aside from the myriad scars marring his pale face and his stormy expression, there was nothing particularly notable about him. Almost suspiciously so. Like he was a plain clothes cop trying to avoid attention, but a certain rigidity in his stance gave him away. Even stranger was that Benny stood oddly close by his side, though he just seemed amused at the argument unfolding before him. 

If he noticed Mabel examining him, the man didn’t react to her as he continued, “You _literally_ tell that to everyone you meet!” 

“Uh- duh!” Unikitty exclaimed, smacking the side of her head for emphasis. “It’s part of how you make friends!” As she said this, her stance shifted to a more thoughtful pose, her eyes narrowing keenly at him as a playful cat-like smirk spread across her lips. She twirled up to him, her dress and tail flaring as she gave him a teasing nudge with her elbow. “In fact, it’s practically standard protocol!” she said in a singsong voice. She spun to his other side and poked him in the arm. “So why aren’t you doing it, BC?” she asked with a toothy grin. “I thought you’d be all over that!” 

BC glared back at Unikitty with his arms crossed, “Because I don’t want to.” 

Unikitty chipper mood dropped by several degrees as her ears flattened against her head. She furiously jabbed a finger into his chest, “Well _you_ don’t get to interrupt my conversations and get away with it!” With that she grabbed the back of his shirt collar and summarily shoved him at the younger girl, “So, _you_ have to introduce yourself to your new friend!” 

On BC’s part, he only looked startled for a split second at his new trajectory, but very quickly caught his balance. Snorting irately, he turned back to level a glare at Unikitty. However, he stilled as his eyes met a fuming glare so intense it could have melted through steel. Despite his stony face, Mabel could see him almost imperceptibly edging away from the older girl. Before his retreat became obvious, he sighed and turned to Mabel, looking her over impassively. 

Deciding that this was the perfect opportunity to give him a good impression, she gave him an enthusiastic wave. “Hiya! I’m Mabel!” 

He raised an eyebrow at her and looked away, sniffing dismissively, “Y’don’t need to know my actual name, kiddo.” 

“Aw, what?” Mabel deflated, disappointment all too clear. However, it was a setback she could easily fix as she almost immediately perked back up to grin at him, a challenging spark in her eyes. “But now I _really_ wanna know, Mr. BC! C’mon!” she insisted and began chanting, “Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!” 

For the first time, BC seemed truly taken aback. Under his shades, an eye twitched. 

She took this as a good sign and chanted louder, pumping her fists into the air. To her surprise, Mabel heard her chant slowly crank up in volume as both Unikitty and then Benny gleefully joined in, their calls of “Tell her! Tell her!” ringing through the Shack. 

Under the audio assault of three people chanting at him, her target pinched the bridge of his nose and hurriedly turned away from them. With a jolt, the thought that they might have overdone it leapt to Mabel’s mind and she quickly cut her chanting short to apologize. But in a bit of impeccable timing, she was able to catch him softly and cryptically hiss something under his breath. 

“Chrissakes, _you_ deal with this.” 

Before she could wonder about the odd statement, something strange happened to BC. Like a switch was flipped, what had been an all-present rigidness in his stance suddenly vanished as his posture softened and relaxed. With a single smooth movement, he flicked up the shades on his glasses as he turned back around with a beaming, gap-toothed smile. In an instant, it was as if someone completely different stood before her. 

“Hey, buddy~!” he greeted happily. Gone was the low, rough voice; replaced by a light-hearted and jovial lilt to his words. Now visible blue eyes shone playfully as he knelt before Mabel, holding his hand out for a shake, “It’s very nice to meet you!” 

Mabel just stared at him. 

While she was hardly one to turn down a friendly handshake, this situation just seemed so wholly off-kilter. She had been willing to coax the grumpy man into opening up, but to suddenly be faced with practically a 180-degree personality flip was too out there, even for her. 

It was frankly quite eerie. 

Lucky for her, the kneeling man simply chuckled at her uncertain stare, like he was used to it. 

“You’ll have to excuse my brother, Miss Mabel,” he apologized cheerfully. He grasped the flip-up shade attachment of his glasses between two fingers and waggled them pointedly, “He’s not really a people person. So he made me come out and do it instead.” 

As he said this, his wording made the pieces quickly fall into place and Mabel’s eyes widened with dawning realization. 

“Ohhh! I get it! So that means you’re like two guys in one body!” she exclaimed, her bright smile returning with her excitement as she eagerly shook the proffered hand. She could hardly believe it! _Two_ people for the price of one? She was sold on this! 

He laughed easily, faintly impressed. “You catch on quick!” he complimented. As he continued, he tapped at the round-framed glasses perched on his prominent nose, “You can call me GC!” Then he tapped at the clipped-on sunglasses frame, “And my brother is BC.” He sat back and gestured to the rest of himself, “But if you can’t tell which one we are, you can just go with Mr. Copper. Can’t be wrong with that one!” 

Mabel giggled, fascinated at the little system the two had to differentiate themselves. If she and Dipper shared a body, she wasn’t sure they’d come up with something quite so elegant. “OK, Mr. Copper!” she tested out the name amiably, but paused as something occurred to her. “Hey, what does GC and BC stand for?” 

GC gave a little hmm and tapped his chin thoughtfully, a hint of indecisiveness tinging his words, “I _could_ tell you that they’re our initials, since I’m Gabriel and he’s Barrett…” He snuck a glance at her and leaned in, a playful smirk on his lips, “But honestly? It’s cause we got nicknamed Good Cop and Bad Cop.” 

“What! No way!” Mabel gasped, her eyes wide. “You’re kidding me!” 

“Cross my heart, it’s true!” GC laughed, even crossing himself for effect. However, he suddenly winced, as if cringing from a sudden noise. He rubbed at his ear ruefully, “Ah, and now he’s yelling at me.” 

Before she could help herself, Mabel darted up to him and clutched at his face imploringly, “Aw don’t be like that Mr. Bad Cop! That’s like the coolest nickname ever!” she half-shouted at him. It was only then that she realized she’d squished GC’s face between her hands, who stared back at her in shock. Nearby, Benny and Unikitty both watched, wide-eyed, at the scene playing out before them. Hurriedly letting go of him, Mabel blushed, “Sorry! I didn’t know if he’d be able to hear me.” 

However, GC proved to live up to his nickname as he burst out laughing hysterically. “My goodness, you’re a little ball of fun!” he exclaimed, wiping a tear from his eye. He knowingly tapped the side of his head with a knowing grin, “Don’t worry, he heard you. It certainly shut him up real fast!” 

Just as Mabel was about to ask if that was a good or bad thing, she spotted a hand gently shake GC’s shoulder to get his attention. Both Mabel and GC turned at the same time to look up at Benny, who had the decency to look a bit abashed. 

“Sorry to butt in, but me and the guys were kinda in the middle of something before B derailed that,” he grinned sheepishly. “Mind if I grab ‘em back real fast?” 

“Aww…” Mabel protested, unable to help her plaintive whine. “But we were having fun talking!” 

GC gave her a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “Hey now, it shouldn’t take too long,” he said reassuringly. Then his eyes lit up with an idea and he snapped his fingers. “Tell you what. Unikitty? How about you introduce Mabel to the others?” he suggested to the older girl with a wide grin, “Bet she’ll get a kick out of Wayne and Metalbeard.” 

“ _Oooh!_ Oh my gosh, you’re right!” Unikitty exclaimed, her ears perking up as an open-mouthed smile spread across her face. She bounced on her toes and raised her hands into eager fists, “C’mon Mabel! You think the Coppers are cool? Just wait ’til you see the rest of us!” 

Mabel turned to her, eyes wide with intrigue, “There’s more of you??” 

Unikitty just laughed as she grabbed Mabel’s arm and tugged her along to the other end of the store, “Oh man, trust me! You’ll like these guys! They’re a riot!” 

Letting herself get pulled away, Mabel joined in with Unikitty’s laughter. This afternoon was turning out to be quite an exciting one! Already she trembled with eagerness to see who else she would get to befriend today. She was already up to four for four on making a good impression and she was confident she could keep up that streak! 

Before they were fully out of sight, Mabel glanced back to check on Mr. Copper, curious to see what was so important that they had to cut their chat short. 

What she found sent her heart leaping. Both he (GC? BC? She couldn’t tell from her angle) and Benny held each other close, much too close to be anything but intimate, their foreheads nearly touching as they murmured to each other in soft tones. 

Mabel involuntarily let out a tiny squeak of delight. 

Goodness, what an adorable couple! 

“Hey Bruce! Get off the phone, you _nerd!_ ” Unikitty suddenly bellowed. 

Mabel spun back and found the older girl aiming a mischievous grin at a dour man standing in the corner beside the vending machine. 

On his part, the Bruce guy resolutely kept his smartphone up to his ear, glaring daggers at Unikitty. He seemed intent on listening to the other end of the call and pressed himself further into the deep shadows of the room. 

Which was weird, because he happened to be in a well-lit corner with sunlight streaming in through the adjacent window. 

Just as Mabel wondered how it was possible for a person to negate light, Bruce let out a resigned sigh, quickly muttering into the device, “Later, Alfred.” Tapping off the call, he straightened up and gruffly addressed the older of the two, affronted, “Alright, just where the heck do you get off calling _me_ a nerd?” 

“Mmm, I dunno~” Unikitty said slowly, feigning contemplation. She then leaned right up in his personal space with a cat-like smirk, “Maybe it’s ‘cause of all those screens you keep glued to yourself? Whatcha doin’ on them anyway?” She plucked the phone from his grasp and started to mock play with its screen, “Playing games for nerds? Watching nerdy videos? Reading all the nerd articles?” 

“‘Kitty-!” Bruce growled, snatching the device from her hands with startling speed. He wiped down the surface with his shirt sleeve and tucked it into a pocket. Turning back to a cheeky Unikitty, he gave her a moody pout, “I’ll have you know they’re relaying important information! Things like news reports, market data, social media updates, the newest music charts-” 

“Cat videos,” Unikitty cut in with a snicker. 

He looked pained. 

“…sometimes cat videos,” he admitted with gritted teeth. “But only sometimes!” he quickly amended. 

At this point, Mabel burst out laughing. Were these guys really supposed to be adults?? 

Bruce’s attention landed on her, his eyebrow raised. 

“And who are you?” he frowned in confusion. 

“This is Mabel! She’s our new friend!” Unikitty announced without preamble. Her hands gently guided Mabel forward, who smiled brightly at him. “Mabel, this is Bruce. Local emopants.” 

“Hi!” Mabel waved. 

But Bruce was no longer focused on her. Instead, he gaped at Unikitty, open-mouthed in offense. “What? Aw- ‘Kitty, c’mon!” he sputtered, “ _Emo?_ Really?” He crossed his arms and huffed, “Emo is over. Get with the times.” 

Mabel looked him over skeptically. “Well if you’re not emo, then what’s up with all the black?” 

Indeed, just about every piece of clothing on him that she could see was a rich shade of black or a dark slaty gray. But for someone with such gloomy taste, he certainly wore them a lot better than most. They were well-fitted and crisply tailored to show off his athletic figure and his strong shoulders. No rumpled, baggy pants or hoodies here. 

Kind of like a… 

“Oh my gosh!” she shouted in a great gasp. Mabel excitedly tugged at the end of Bruce’s jacket, who was now staring strangely at her. “Are you a _goth_?? Like a full grown-up goth?!” she asked with a bounce, “I _never_ see those!” 

He really did look like some kind of cleaned-up, refined goth. He had all the right aesthetics, but they were honed to fit in with the sharp look adults seemed to prefer. And unlike the gloomy teens she’d encountered, he clearly had the time and money to take care of himself. 

He still hadn’t stopped giving her that weird look, though the edge in his stare softened to a more cocky one. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, Bruce turned to Mabel with a derisive snort. 

“ _Puh_ -lease, those guys are just cribbing my style,” he boasted. Whatever grumpiness afflicting him when the girls interrupted his call evaporated as he took on a self-assured air, lazily jerking a thumb at himself as he said, “I did it first. And better I might add.” 

Behind him, Unikitty silently motioned to Mabel, shaking her head while mouthing ‘no he didn’t’ with a scrunched nose. Mabel snorted and Bruce swiveled around to glare at Unikitty, now doing all she could to play innocent. His eyes narrowed at her and Unikitty threw her arms to the air in an exaggerated shrug, pulling an even more ridiculous face. Bruce sighed, shaking his head. 

“…As I was saying,” Bruce continued with a huff. “I’m a bit of trendsetter. Had the whole black ensemble thing going for me before any of those goth dorks picked it up,” he bragged, practically oozing swagger once more. “And all that stuff about darkness and emotional distress? Also me. It’s a signature of mine,” he boasted, though it was a strange thing to be proud of. “Can’t blame them for wanting a piece of me. I mean, this is _me_ we’re talking about here,” he preened, pointing both thumbs at himself. 

Mabel tilted her head, eyebrow raised. “And who would _you_ be?” 

As subtly as he could, Bruce glanced around the shop for any eavesdroppers, before leaning down to Mabel’s height. “Try not to freak out or anything, kid,” he said in a low voice, “But you’re talking to Bruce Wayne.” 

Mabel stared at him uncertainly. 

“The name’s kinda familiar…” she said slowly, “But I got nothing.” 

The sheer speed at which his face dropped could have broken the sound barrier. 

“Wait, _seriously??_ ” Bruce demanded, suddenly going from suave adult to petulant five-year-old in two seconds flat. In fact, he was literally _pouting_ at her. 

It took every ounce of Mabel’s willpower to not keel over laughing right there and then. 

“Bruce _Wayne?_ ” he continued crossly, hoping that saying it differently would ring any bells. When she didn’t respond, he kept going. “The guy that’s head of Wayne Enterprises, biggest company in the US, rival to Stark Industries? Eccentric, billionaire philanthropist? Has no affiliation whatsoever to Batman?” 

None of that meant anything to Mabel and she told him so. 

This proved to be final straw and Bruce stood back, dumbfounded. 

“Bruce, you OK?” Unikitty asked carefully. She was getting genuinely concerned if the slow swivel of her ears were anything to go by. 

“Uhhh…” Bruce intoned dully, “I think I need a moment.” 

As they watched him stagger off in a daze, Unikitty tsked at the sight, wryly shaking her head. “Yeesh! If I knew that’s all it takes to break him, I’m surprised he’s lasted this long!” 

“ _Pffhahaha!_ ” a booming voice suddenly cackled, “He be as lily-livered as they come! Nothin’ but hot air an’ ego up in thar!” 

A series of heavy footsteps stomped their way towards them and Mabel spun around to face the loud newcomer. But she found that she had to crane her sight up and up and _wow this guy was tall_. 

Tall wasn’t even the half of it either. He was _huge_. Broad-shouldered, barrel-chested and burly, the only thing that was comparable in size was his great silvery-gray beard, adorned with tinkling metal beads and trinkets. Even if size wasn’t on his side, he would still impossible to miss as he was inexplicably dressed like some kind of a steampunk-flavored classic pirate, complete with great coat, tricorn, eyepatch, and peg-leg. The only thing that didn’t quite fit in were his weird-looking prosthetic hands. Curiously, a faint whirring sound seemed to be emanating from his person, though there wasn’t an obvious source. 

“Whoa…” Mabel gasped. 

“There you are!” Unikitty’s voice scolded. The older girl screwed her face up into an exaggerated frown, “Have you been spying on us, young man??” 

The pirate man let out another booming laugh, “Beggin’ yer pardon fer eavesdroppin’. Can’t ‘elp but listenin’ in on ye lassies when ye be puttin’ ol’ Batsy in his place!” 

“‘Batsy’?” Mabel wondered aloud. Hadn’t Bruce mentioned something about bats? 

“Arr! Ahoy, Miss Mabel!” the giant abruptly greeted, interrupting her thoughts. His steel peg-leg stumped loudly on the wooden floors as he adjusted himself to give her a great big formal bow, hat held to his chest with left arm flung out and everything, “The name be Metalbeard! At ‘cher service!” 

Mabel’s eyes widened, sparkling in amazement. 

“You already know my name??” she squeaked in wonder. 

“O’ course!” Metalbeard boomed as he flipped his tricorn back on his bandana covered head. “Been seein’ ya make the rounds. ‘Ard to miss a bouncy lil’ lass like ye ‘round ‘ere!” He tapped the side of his head emphatically, “I may be missin’ parts, but me eardrums still be intact! 

Mabel didn’t respond. Instead she stared at his hands, absolutely fascinated. 

They were fully articulated pieces of machinery with ball joints, wires, and who knew what, all pushing and pulling at steel rods that mimicked the shape of bone. All of it readily responded to Metalbeard’s movements as if they were his natural limbs. These had to be some seriously high-end prosthetics. 

Dipper was going to be _so_ jealous that he missed this. 

“You got some crazy looking hands there!” she concluded, then breaking out into a blush as she realized how insensitive she must have sounded. 

But Metalbeard seemed to take no offense as he knelt down at Mabel’s level, raising a hand and waggling his fingers. “Aye! It be me robot hands,” he said, giving her a glinting-gold grin. He pulled up his sleeve, revealing more crazy prosthetics, “An’ this be me robot arm. One a’ two!” He patted his thigh, “And this be one o’ me one-an’-a-‘alf robot legs.” He pounded his chest with a fist, “And this here be a robot torso filled with organs!” 

“Gross!” Mabel giggled. 

“Don’t be knockin’ on me organs, lass!” Metalbeard teased as he got back up. “I need those to stay alive!” 

“Oops! Sorry!” she laughed sheepishly. However, even she could connect the dots and carefully asked, “So how’d you get like this, Mr. Metalbeard?” 

From the corner of her sight, Mabel spotted Unikitty suddenly jolt and furiously shake her head at Metalbeard, her curly, white ponytail whipping from side to side. Mabel saw him shoot back a mischievous grin at her and Unikitty crossed her arms pointedly. 

“O’ lassie!” Metalbeard began, voice warbling with melodrama. He raised the back of his robotic hand to his head, clutching his chest with the other, feigning tragedy as he leaned back, “’Tis an awful tale of woe! But if ye insist, I shall share it with thee!” 

In the background, Unikitty smacked her forehead, groaning, “Oh no, not again…” 

Before Metalbeard could get any further, screeching feedback from a megaphone nearly deafened the whole room. Her ears still ringing, Mabel didn’t have to look too hard to find the source of sound: Grunkle Stan, who carelessly tossed the offending megaphone to the side. 

“Alright you pack a’ carnies!” he growled menacingly at the scattered group, “We’re closin’ up shop! Now beat it!” Stan paused, adding, “Unless you’re buying something. In which case, give me your money and _then_ beat it!” 

To Stan’s credit, he didn’t immediately jump away when, from out of nowhere, Unikitty shoved herself directly into his line of sight. 

“Excuse me, not to be rude or anything,” she cut in, her voice innocent, though something slightly threatening lurked under the surface, “I know you’re closing, but can’t you make an exception for us? Especially considering what happened earlier?” 

Mabel looked around to see if any other customers also needed more time. To her surprise, only the group of her new adult friends remained in the shop. And all of them were carefully moving in to back-up Unikitty if needed, each wearing their feelings clearly on their faces: Benny looked worried; Metalbeard was ready for a shouting match; BC glared disdainfully; Bruce stood there unimpressed. Everyone else must have left while she’d been making her introductions. 

Stan disregarded the other men and just huffed at the frilly girl, crossing his arms like an obstinate child, “I’ll have you know that this is _my_ business and I can kick out whoever I want, whenever I want! No exceptions! Now scram!” 

Unikitty’s eye twitched. 

Mabel scowled at him. 

“Grunkle Stan, that’s no way to treat guests!” she scolded. She turned to the others apologetically, “Sorry! He’s being weirdly grumpy today!” 

“Grumpy?!” Stan scowled back, “I have good reason to be grumpy when carnies are around! They’ll steal anything that’s not nailed down!” 

Metalbeard scoffed, grumbling under his breath, “As if this heap gots any booty worth plunderin’.” 

“Hey, nothing against carnies, but we _aren’t_ ,” Benny chipped in, discretely tugging a still twitching Unikitty away from Stan, “Just wanted to clear that up.” 

“That’s exactly what a carnie would say to let my guard down!” Stan growled, glaring at them with even greater suspicion. “Well, tough luck! You ain’t getting anything offa me!” 

Loud, frustrated and slightly obnoxious groaning suddenly cut off any attempt at an argument. At her wit’s end, Unikitty grabbed at her hair and screamed, “WE DON’T EVEN WANT YOUR CRAP, OH MY GOD.” Cheeks flushed red, she seized the front of Stan’s suit and shook him for good measure as she shrieked, “WE JUST WANT TO WAIT FOR OUR SICK FRIEND!! IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK?!” 

Stunned silence filled the air. 

Even BC’s sunglasses slipped down in disbelief. 

Finally comprehending the spectacle she’d just made of herself, Unikitty flushed, mortified, and cleared her throat. Dislodging her grip from Stan’s suit, she had enough social grace to straighten out the creases she’d made before stepping back. As politely as she could, she added, 

“Please.” 

Grunkle Stan in the meantime, looked like he was on the edge of a heart attack. Once Unikitty had stepped away, he regained his composure and dusted himself off, though there was a slight tremor that evened out as he spoke. 

“Ugh, right… forgot about that. Fine, fine!” he grumped, rubbing at his eyes with one hand, where a headache was very likely forming there. He pointed to the door, “You can wait outside and I won’t even call the cops on ya.” 

Unikitty bristled. 

“How is that any better??” she gritted out, barely keeping her volume under a shout. 

Before anymore arguing could break out, Bruce took that moment to step in. 

“Thanks. That’s generous of you,” he told Stan courteously, though there was a slight edge to his tone. As if to further illustrate his point, Bruce turned around and made for the exit. 

Everyone stared at his retreating back. 

“What?! Just like that?!” Unikitty nearly shrieked. 

Bruce sighed. “This doesn’t need to be any dumber than it already is,” he tossed over his shoulder, his hand already on the door. “Come on. We’ve got a better place to wait, remember?” 

The others exchanged glances. BC shrugged and trailed after Bruce, Metalbeard grumpily following suit. Unikitty joined them, but took the time to make a rude gesture at Stan. He scoffed, unimpressed. 

“And good riddance to ya too!” Stan shouted after them, shaking a fist. 

Sighing in disappointment, Mabel gave them a small wave as they left. And she was only just beginning to have some fun… 

Benny was the last to make any move to leave. As he went for the door, he gave the girl a fond smile. “Don’t worry, Mabel,” he said, giving her an encouraging double thumbs up. “We’re not going anywhere yet. Even if our friend wakes up now, we wouldn’t leave you without saying goodbye first!” 

“Really?” Mabel asked hopefully. When he nodded, she puffed out her chest in determination, “Then as soon as I’m done here, I’m joining you out there!” 

“I’m looking forward to it!” he grinned in return, “Just look for us in the parking lot when you can!” 

With that, Benny closed the door behind him, the bell jingling in his wake, finally leaving the gift shop devoid of all customers. 

Stan quickly moved in to fill the silence. “Alright people, we’ve had a long and profitable day, but that changes absolutely nothing for you.” He clapped his hands, “Get a move on! We’re burning daylight here!” 

The only response he got was a grumble from Wendy and an enthusiastic ‘You got it, Mr. Pines!’ from Soos. Mabel was still a little too miffed at Grunkle Stan’s brazen rudeness to say anything in return. Instead, she busied herself with tidying up and replenishing the merchandise. She preferred doing the displays, often putting things, if not in the right place, then certainly in a much more interesting, eye-catching arrangement. 

But as she went to pull out some backstock, she spotted one of her Lego creations sitting forgotten on a counter. Curiously, she picked it up and immediately realized what was wrong with its presence. 

“Oh no! Benny let his spaceship behind!” she gasped. 

Stan just chuckled at her dismay, “Ah, don’t worry about it. It just means you can sell it to the next schmuck who comes around!” 

“I can’t do that! He paid for it fair and square!” Mabel protested. Making a few estimates in her head, she perked up at her odds and went for the exit, “But I think I can still catch up to him!” 

“Mabel, wait-!” 

Whatever Stan was about to yell was lost to the crash of the door falling shut behind her. 

Incidentally, Benny hadn’t gotten very far before the sound of the slamming door got him to turn around in surprise. Upon spotting Mabel, his face lit up though it was tinged with a hint of confusion. 

“Benny! You forgot this!” she called out, holding the toy over her head as she scurried up to him. 

His confusion instantly evaporated and he smacked himself on the forehead, frustration evident as he jogged his way back. 

“Crap, I totally did!” he groaned as the two met halfway. Kneeling down, Benny accepted the toy from her with a sheepish smile, “Thanks Mabel! I owe you one!” 

“No problem!” Mabel beamed. 

“My goodness Benny!” GC exclaimed as he approached them. Their commotion must have caught his attention. He shook his head in feigned shock, “ _You?_ Forgetting a _spaceship?_ My, my, what _is_ the world coming to?” 

“Hey, it’s been a nutty day, cut me some slack,” Benny grumbled back, pouting. It didn’t last and he shared a glance with Mabel, before holding out a fist, “I’m just glad Mabel’s got my back, am I right?” 

She fist bumped him back, “A hundred percent!” 

“What _is_ that?” Unikitty asked, suddenly peeking over Benny’s arm to curiously poke at the toy. 

“It’s a little spaceship Mabel made! Neat, huh?” Benny said, holding it out for her to see, making little spaceship sound effects as he did so. 

Unikitty softly oohed at it, her ears perked up. 

“Obviously,” Bruce grunted upon arrival, Metalbeard in tow. 

The large pirate leaned over Benny with obvious interest, “And what be yer spaceship made of? Plastic?” 

“Y’know… I never really asked,” Benny frowned, turning the little toy about. He glanced up and looked at the girl questioningly, “Mabel?” 

As he looked up at her, the others followed suit until she had all four-and-a-half sets of eyes waiting patiently for an answer. 

Mabel stared back at them uncertainly. 

This had to be some kind of trick question. 

“Uh, they’re Lego bricks?” she tried cautiously. 

They met her with silence. Not a speck of recognition could be found among them, much less any sign of deception or a joke. In fact, all she could find was genuine curiosity. 

“Fascinatin’,” Metalbeard said, reaching over to poke the toy with a prosthetic finger. “Ain’t never seen these ‘Lego’ a’fore.” 

“Yeah, me neither,” Benny added. 

“Same!” Unikitty chipped in. 

“‘Lego’. What is that?? French? Norwegian?” Bruce wondered to himself, apparently wracking his brain. His face twisted uncertainly, “ _…Danish?_ ” 

Mabel, on the other hand, could scarcely believe the words coming out of their mouths. 

“WHAT DO YOU _MEAN_ YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF LEGO BEFORE?!” 

As one, the assembled adults turned to stare at her, stunned by her sudden outburst. 

“No…?” GC said uncertainly. 

“Are you kidding me?!” Mabel cried. This was too mind-boggling to comprehend! “They’re like a cultural institution! A childhood staple! There’s multiple theme parks dedicated to it! Real, legitimate artists make whole, giant sculptures out of them! Not a single major movie franchise hasn’t had a Lego parody made of it! How can you not know about them?!” 

“…We just don’t,” Bruce shrugged, the others nodding along with him. 

“How about ye enlighten us uncultured swine, lassie?” Metalbeard suggested. “T’would help pass the time ’til our friends have news.” 

But Mabel shook her head firmly. 

“No, words won’t do this justice,” she said boldly, putting hands to her hips. A light breeze blew at her hair and clothes. “This requires a demonstration!” 

With that, she spun sharply on her heel and ran full-tilt back to the cabin, calling over her shoulder, “You guys wait right here!” 

“As if we’re actually going anywhere…” she heard BC grumble in the distance. 

Mabel giggled to herself. Boy was _he_ in for a fun surprise! 

Crashing through the door, Mabel startled Grunkle Stan enough to nearly make him drop a fat stack of bills. He glared at her, its intensity growing as he watched her dart behind the counter with him. “Oi! You finally come back to do your job?” he groused. 

“Nope!” she quipped brightly. “I’ve got a cultural emergency on my hands!” 

Ignoring Stan’s confused sputtering, Mabel dove into the shelves and drawers, rapidly shuffling through them. Quickly locating the box she kept there for creative emergencies and/or moments of boredom, she slipped it out with a rattle of plastic. Dipping a hand in, she took out a fistful and let them drop back into the box in a cascade of plastic _tinks_. Mabel’s critical eyes narrowed at the contents. It didn’t seem to be enough, but she knew exactly where to find more if needed. 

“I’ll be back later, Grunkle Stan!” she cheerfully informed him, jumping back to her feet. Holding the box over her head, she took off, the sound of plastic bouncing in cardboard punctuating her steps. 

“What about your-?!” 

Once again, the door slammed shut, sparing her an earful from a disgruntled Stan. 

Now that she was outside, Mabel scanned the area curiously. 

Her friends weren’t where she’d left them. 

Just as she started frowning, distant chatter from the parking lot drifted over and she turned to find them at the feet of a monstrous black RV. With a wide grin, Mabel scampered in their direction, watching the little group set up folding chairs around an already unfolded folding table. As she drew near, she knew exactly how she wanted to introduce one of the world’s best toys to them. 

“TADAA! LEGO!” Mabel shouted, upending the box onto the table like a slam dunked basketball. 

With a great crash of plastic, a colorful explosion of building blocks scattered every which way, some even peppering the startled adults. They blinked at the mess, bewildered. 

Bruce recovered first and stared at Mabel dubiously. He brushed imaginary dust off himself like a fussy cat, muttering, “Sure know how to make an entrance there, kiddo.” 

Mabel grinned and was about to thank him until a soft rattle caught her attention. She turned from Bruce and saw the others curiously picking through the messy pile. 

“Ooh neat!” Unikitty exclaimed, examining a thick block. Bringing it up for closer inspection, she focused just one eye on it while sticking out her tongue. She giggled. “They’ve got Lego stamped all over them!” 

“So you won’t forget what you’re working with!” chirped Mabel. She took up two loose pieces and held them up for display. “OK, it’s pretty obvious how they work, but basically, you do this!” Lining the bricks up, she pushed them together with a “Click!” and spun the connected blocks to show them off. “And you just keeping going from there!” 

“OK, so they’re brand name building blocks. Good to know,” Bruce eye-rolled dismissively. He frowned, picking up a piece. “Then why haven’t I ever heard of them?” 

“Yeah, that’s pretty weird,” Mabel agreed. “They’re all over the place! Except maybe not outer space…” She narrowed her eyes at them, “You guys wouldn’t happen to be Martians would you?” 

“Pfah! Benny wishes!” Metalbead snorted, giving his friend a playful shove. 

Benny sighed dreamily, “If they told me I had to go on a one-way trip Mars, I would so do it.” 

Unikitty’s ears flattened. “Morbid…” 

“What? It’s doable!” Benny shouted, offended. “Heck, there’s a whole book on it!” 

While the two began an argument over some book about a singular Martian, Metalbeard idly went through a handful of pieces, feeling them out. His eye narrowed and he leveled a skeptical stare at Mabel, “Now this be darlin’ n’ all, but why use all these bits? Don’t ye know models exist?” 

“Of course! Models are great too! But models can only make one specific thing!” Mabel pointed out. “If you’re good enough, you can make anything with these! Like giant animal sculptures or scale buildings or weird fine art!” 

“And then what? You glue them together?” Bruce suggested with a frown. 

Mabel burst out laughing. 

“ _Glue??_ No way!” she scoffed, wiping away a tear. “Maybe with the professionals, but normal people don’t! The only regular people who glue them together are nerdos that don’t wanna play with them anymore. I mean, look at ‘em!” Mabel grabbed two pieces and clicked them together before popping them back out. “You’re supposed to take them apart! Because what if you need a piece but it’s stuck in some old glued up thing? That doesn’t help anyone!” 

“Oh! That makes sense!” Unikitty grinned as she gathered up some of the more colorful pieces. She sure liked bright colors! 

“I found a head,” GC announced flatly. He held up the yellow cylinder in his thumb and fore finger for everyone to see. It bore a grumpy face. He didn’t seem to know what to make of it. 

“Those are for the people Legos,” Mabel explained. Digging into her pockets, she pulled out her custom painted figures and passed them over to GC. He accepted them and experimentally waggled a little plastic arm. She continued, “So if you want a driver for your Lego car or boat or whatever, you can pop one in! You can do whatever you want with them! They’re super versatile!” 

As GC continued to examine the mini-figures, Mabel looked over to find the other adults had settled around the table and were picking their way through the pile of bricks. Benny was already making additions to the spaceship she sold him. He must have had a few ideas in mind if the pile he’d gathered was anything to go by. The others busied themselves in connecting bricks, making flat constructions Mabel couldn’t quite distinguish yet. 

Thinking about it, it was surreal watching a bunch of full-grown adults playing with building blocks like kids. Of course, she knew adults sometimes made it a lifelong hobby or even their job. Watching adults who’d never encountered them before was something else entirely. A bit magical even. 

And to think it was all because she decided to share with them! 

As Mabel looked on in satisfaction, she spotted a personal pet peeve sitting innocently in the pile. Her expression turned stormy as she picked up the offending pair of tiny, thin, stuck-together pieces and held them up for display. “OK, just FYI. You see how these little super flat ones are stuck together?” she asked, leveling them all with great solemness. When the group nodded, she flung her arms out (inadvertently flinging the pieces back into the pile). “Never, EVER do this on purpose unless you plan on never taking them apart!” Her eyes narrowed, voice dropping several more degrees, “‘Cause if you do, you _never will_.” 

Just as she said this, Bruce retrieved the stuck pieces and leveraged two large gray wedge-shaped things against them. With a soft grunt of exertion, the two tiny pieces popped apart and fell to the table. He turned to Mabel with a raised eyebrow. 

Mabel gaped at the dual wedges. 

“So _THAT’S_ what those are for!!” she cried, pouncing on the tools and trying it for herself. When the two tiny pieces popped apart once again, she let out a sound that could be described as half exultant joy and half pure, unbridled frustration from years of countless stubbed fingers. With that, she unceremoniously planted her face on the table, groaning either out of aggravation or because she landed face-first into a bunch of Lego pieces. 

At least these adults were polite enough to hold back their laughter. 

Bruce awkwardly patted her on the back, “There, there.” 

She just groaned in response. 

Mabel wasn’t given long to stew in her misery before someone lightly tapped the back of her head. Looking up from the table, she found a bemused Benny grinning hopefully at her. 

“You got any more?” he asked. 

“Of course I do!” Mabel shouted, perking up instantly with a beaming smile. Not even the Lego pieces unsticking themselves from her face were enough to take away from her bright grin. She turned on her heel and ran off, yelling over her shoulder, “More bricks coming right up! I’ll be back before you know it!” 

Upon reentering the Shack, Mabel found Stan still gleefully riffling through the day’s earnings. This time, he paid her no mind as she ran past, too absorbed in counting to bother her. 

But a curious look from Wendy gave Mabel pause and she remembered with a jolt of guilt that she was supposed to be working. 

“Hey, Wendy? Soos? Are you guys OK with covering me?” Mabel asked sheepishly, “I’ll make it up to you! I promise!” 

Fortunately, Wendy was much too chill to be bothered and shrugged casually, “S’alright man. Nothing we can’t handle.” 

“Yeah! Go have some fun, dude,” Soos assured her with a thumbs up. 

Mabel grinned back at them, “Thanks! You guys are the best!” 

Flinging open the door to the living room, Mabel nearly barreled right into Dipper. He shouted in surprise, cringing at the coming impact. Lucky for him, her reflexes were faster and she neatly spun around him, avoiding a collision. 

"'Scuse me!" Mabel loudly sang over her shoulder as she charged past. She heard Dipper yell at her, but she paid him no mind. He'd get over it. 

She practically flew up the steps and slammed open the door to her shared room, startling Waddles from his afternoon nap with an unhappy oink. Dismayed, Mabel yelped and raced over to her bed where she gave the pig a warm cuddle. 

“Waddles! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare ya buddy!” she cooed. She giggled when he grunted at her and leaned into her touch, enjoying the attention being heaped upon him. 

It took a few pets and snuggles, but soon she got Waddles settled back down. With the world’s best pig properly comforted, Mabel ducked into the attic alcove. They still sat right where she’d left them and it was easy to drag out the dusty bins and boxes of Lego bricks she had found not that long ago. Popping them open, her eyes gleamed at their wondrous contents. 

Within the age-discolored plastic and crumbling cardboard packaging, lay far too many Lego bricks to count, neatly arranged by color, shape and size. Long bricks, flat bricks, thick bricks, tiny bricks and everything in-between sat there ready to formed into whatever the imagination dictated. They came in the standard primary colors but also the more uncommon ones, ranging in shades from the secondary to even the tertiary; to light pastels to deep, darks that were nearly black. It was practically an entire rainbow of shapes at her disposal. 

It was unbelievably tempting to keep them all for herself. 

But even _she_ had to admit that she likely would never find a use for all the pieces at her fingertips. 

So why not share them with a few individuals deprived of such a childhood staple? 

It wasn’t as if Ford still wanted them anyway. 

In fact, he’d all but forgotten about the boxes of them until he found Mabel pestering Stan about why he kept such a wonderful treasure hidden away for so long. Ford was actually quite surprised to find out that she and Dipper both knew what they were. When they explained to him that they had only gotten bigger in the time he’d been gone, he was stunned. 

“I can’t believe they still make these,” he marveled, only to flippantly shrug afterwards. “Well, it’s not like I have time for them anymore. Have at ‘em, kids!” 

She was fairly certain that giving them away to friends counted as ‘having at them’. 

Now just how many of them might her new friends want? She wanted to give them enough to tinker with, but not so many that they might be overwhelmed. One had to strike a reasonable balance in- 

“ ** _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!_** ” 

Mabel’s heart leapt into her throat, the sudden horrifying scream sending her thoughts screeching to a complete halt. 

She didn't even stop to consider her next move. 

In an instant, Mabel was on her feet and out the door, charging down the stairs with her grappling hook primed and ready for action. Her heart raced, she had no idea what she might be facing. Anything from monsters to ghosts to aliens were entirely possible in Gravity Falls, so she steeled herself for whatever may come. The only clear thing she really knew was that the cries came from the back porch and that was where she needed to be. She threw open the door, leaping to the ready. 

“What’s going on?! I heard screaming!” she shouted to whoever was there. 

A strangled sound of distress came from her left and Mabel found the musty old couch occupied by a man curled up into a tight, rigid ball. His teeth were bared in a grimace, white-knuckled hands gripping his scalp, his eyes wide, unfocused, and terrified as his chest heaved frantic, unsteady breaths. 

It was the fainting man! 

In the middle of a fit-! 

Mabel’s eyes widened. 

“ _Oh man-!_ ” 


End file.
